THE SCIENCE SERIES.
1. The Study of Man. By A. C. HADDON.
2. The Groundwork of Science. By ST. GEORGE
MIVART.
3. Rivers of North America. By ISRAEL C. RUS-
SELL.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK & LONDON
ZTbe Science Series
EDITED BY
professor 3. QbcTkecn Gattell, /TO.H., pb.H).
THE GROUNDWORK OF
SCIENCE
THE GROUNDWORK
OF SCIENCE S2
A STUDY OF EPISTEMOLOGY
BY
ST. GEORGE MIVART
V 4
M.D., PH.D., F.R.S.
NEW YORK
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
LONDON
BLISS, SANDS, & CO.
1898
COPYRIGHT, 1898
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
ftnicfterbocfeer preas, Hew li;orb
PREFACE
WE have again and again been impressed by the ready
disposition of men whose views and opinions are
most opposed, to agree in accepting as certain, things which
are by no means evident, and in adopting conclusions as
proved, which are by no means the only consequences that
follow from conceded premisses. Our great object, there-
fore, in this little volume, is to represent nothing as certain
which does not appear to us to be really evident, and yet
not to shrink from upholding as true whatever, in our judg-
ment, possesses the highest conceivable evidence.
It has been our constant care to be impartial and, above
all, to allow no consideration not purely scientific no an-
ticipations as to possible consequences to influence us in
the conclusions which our judgment has led us to form.
Our appeal throughout has been to the dry light of reason,
and to that alone. Not so to act; to allow any kind of
prejudice, any non-scientific consideration, to influence us
in such a task as an endeavour to investigate the ground-
work of science, would be both treason to science and a
betrayal of the cause of philosophy.
But it is possible that to some persons the title of this book
may prove a rock of offence, namely, persons disposed to
doubt whether its object can be by any possibility attain-
able. " Is there," they may ask, " anything which can
really merit the name of a ' groundwork of science ' ; and,
iv PREFACE
should there be such a thing, can a knowledge of it be really
attainable by us ? "
To this question the answer appears to be that some
groundwork of science there must be. For no one can deny
that science exists, and this is obtrusively evident in our own
time, when we are witnessing the closing days of an age
which has been conspicuous beyond all others for scientific
progress. Now, any science which we may select for con-
sideration will be found to consist of some truths which are
the results of other truths antecedently ascertained, whether
the latter have served as incentives to more patient and
careful observations and experiments, or whether the ante-
cedent truths have served as premisses from which the newer
truths have been logically inferred. These primitive and
fundamental truths of the science selected, together with the
efforts made to ascertain and establish them, must be allowed
to form the groundwork of that particular science. And as
every science must possess such primitive and fundamental
truths, there must be a groundwork of science generally,
even if it consists only of a collection of all the fundamental
truths of all the several sciences.
But can there be one common groundwork for all the
sciences from logic to geology, however diverse may be their
several subject-matters ? It might be supposed that such
there cannot be, the sciences being so numerous and diverse.
Nevertheless, there is one point which is common to them
all. However numerous and diverse the sciences may be,
they all agree in having been developed by one kind of
energy, namely, that of the human mind. And, indeed,
after putting on one side all the differences which have
arisen from diversities of culture (qualitative and quanti-
tative), of energy, and of industry, there is a general and
fundamental unity in human capacity. The sciences there-
fore being many and diverse, while the nature of the energy
PREFACE v
applied to their investigation is essentially one, it is evident
that the groundwork of science must be sought in the human
mind, and in the mind of each individual man who applies
himself to its study the study of Epistemology. 1
Now the mind of each one of us is, during our waking
hours, ceaselessly active, but active in very different ways.
We may be vaguely conscious of our existence while
listening to some sweet melody' which entrances us with its
charm. We may be enjoying the freshness of the air and
the augmenting brightness of the sun of a summer's day,
hardly aware of undefined thoughts passing through our
mind. We may be anxiously longing for the arrival of a
friend whom we impatiently expect, or dreading the delay
in his arrival as foreboding evil. We may be dwelling in
fancy over events of days gone by, or looking forward to the
future fruition of a hope long entertained. We may be
simultaneously applying our senses of sight and touch to as-
certain the shape and structure of some material object a
feather, a shell, or a work of art. We may be carrying out
a piece of deductive reasoning, or we may be reflecting upon
what we are about, and making sure we know, suspect, or
doubt what we are actually cognising, suspecting, or doubt-
ing. But if we happen to be engaged in the study and
pursuit of science, we must be aware of what we are doing,
and, at least occasionally, reflect upon our perceptions.
Therefore, once more, the groundwork of science must be
sought for in the human mind in our own mind when
cognising scientific truths; especially those deemed most
certain and far-reaching. And such truths cannot be truths
obtained by reasoning, and cannot depend for their certainty
on any experiments or observations alone. Such is mani-
festly the case, since whatever truth depends on reasoning
cannot be ultimate, but must be posterior to, and depend
/, understanding, and AoyoS, a discourse.
vi PREFACE
upon, the principles, experiments, or observations which
show us that it is indeed true, and upon which its accept-
ance thus depends ; while the reflex certainty of observations
and experiments themselves also implies the recognition
of fundamental intellectual perceptions. Therefore, the
groundwork of science must be composed of facts and of
truths which carry with them their own evidence which
are self-evident together with our own mental activity in
reflecting upon and recognising such propositions as being
the self-evident truths they are. Amongst such truths (as
we shall hereafter see) must be that of our continued exist-
ence from day to day, and the certainty that we cannot at
the same time continue to exist and yet cease to be, with
others of similar nature. Such truths, it will be sought to
show, cannot be really doubted without mental paralysis
and self-stultification, for complete scepticism, as absolutely
and necessarily self-destructive, is impossible for us. This
assertion our readers are now asked to accept provisionally
for what it may be worth, as full treatment of this and
kindred subjects will find its place in the eighth chapter.
They cannot be fully treated earlier, because before begin-
ning to consider those fundamental questions, regarded as
most essential elements of the groundwork of science, the
way must be cleared for their due appreciation by a prelim-
inary consideration of the various intellectual structures (the
sciences) the foundations common to the whole of which
it is the purpose of this book to point out.
At the commencement, therefore, it appears incumbent
on us, after considering what science is and of what it must
consist, to call attention to certain elementary facts and dis-
tinctions without which it seems impossible to follow up any
intellectual inquiry: such facts, e. g., are (in our opinion)
the essential nature both of our ideas and the words we
make use of to express them.
PREFA CE vii
Obviously, without an adequate acquaintance with the
nature of our ideas no one can hope to succeed in a task an
important part of which consists in the analysis of mental
conceptions. What factors, therefore, co-operate in their
elicitation, and the nature of such factors, the shares they
respectively take, and the rank of each in ideation, are
preliminary matters which must be noted at the very com-
mencement of this book. Similarly, no one can arrive at
even a provisional conclusion with respect to any merely
initial problem unless he can be satisfied that there is some
criterion of truth and that he can avail himself of it. To
these first steps towards an understanding of the ground-
work of science, the earlier portion of this book must, it
appears to us, be exclusively devoted.
But in order to explore the groundwork of all science, it
seems reasonable that the reader's attention should also be
called to the different kinds of systematic and organised in-
quiry the different sciences about which men's minds have
been hitherto occupied their number, nature, and the
various degrees of affinity and relationship existing between
them, etc. But before we can take another step forwards
we shall find our progress arrested by the idealists. It is
true that we hear it said that all the physical sciences can
be pursued and taught as well on the idealistic hypothesis,
as on that view concerning a real, external, independent
world existing on all sides, which is entertained by all men
who are not idealists. This we regard as true for one reason
only : the reason, namely, that nature is too strong for ideal-
ism, and that no man can be always a consistent idealist,
least of all students and adepts in physical science, who are
continually recognising in thought and speech, and are con-
stantly occupied about, certain bodies acting and interacting
upon other bodies, not only quite without regard to their
own perceptions (which need not be adverted to as being
viii PREFACE
such), but with an implied perception of substantial exist-
ences, underlying and utterly different from any plexuses
of feelings. If we shall be compelled to admit that ideal-
ism is true, we shall have to admit also that the groundwork
of science is indeed mental, in a very different sense from
that in which we and most other men have taken it to be.
Moreover, for our own part, we should then feel that the
authority and certainty of other seemingly self-evident
truths were gravely compromised, especially if a truth ap-
parently so self-evident as the existence of our own body
(as we and most men understand that body to exist) were
but a delusion and self-deception of the mind. But al-
though, even then, the most fundamental truths of all
would still, for us, remain evident and unimpaired in their
certainty, it nevertheless appears to us to be incumbent on
anyone who desires to study Epistemology, to enter upon a
serious inquiry as to the truth of idealism.
An inquiry respecting a system which has been adopted,
and is maintained, by so many men of eminence, not only
in philosophy but in physical science also, can evidently be
no light task; yet it must be undertaken and idealism ac-
cepted or rejected before further progress is possible. If
such an inquiry were neglected the groundwork of science
would, we think, have to remain for the student a problem
unsolved and (till this has been finally decided one way or
the other) insoluble.
The inquirer, having become once convinced of the real
existence of an external independent world of " things in
themselves " should, we think, have his attention next
called to the modes and methods wherewith science deals
with the objects it investigates, in order to ascertain, as far
as he may, what assumptions and convictions are implied in,
and by, and are necessary for, all and any scientific research.
This appears to us a desirable, if not an absolutely neces-
PREFA CE i x
sary, preliminary, because assumptions and convictions
which are indispensable for the carrying on of science must
be more or less closely connected with the groundwork
thereof. Such an introductory inquiry, however, should,
we think, be made only in order to ascertain what are the
necessary implications of science, the question as to the
objective truth of such necessary implications finding its
place (as before said) later on, namely, towards the climax
of our inquiry. These implications cannot but be very
nearly related to questions concerning our highest mental
faculties. Such must be the case, since science, in the
widest sense of that word (including even the science of
sciences, or metaphysics), requires for its satisfactory pro-
secution the employment of our very noblest powers, and it
is by them alone that we can hope to attain a knowledge of
the most supreme and ultimate truths which our intellectual
faculties have the power to apprehend.
On this account, before entering upon our final inquiry as
to what it is which constitutes the groundwork of science,
we must study the nature and power of what seem to be our
highest faculties; but this we cannot usefully proceed to
do till we have taken cognisance of our ordinary mental
powers, upon the pre-existence and exercise of which the
possibility of such higher faculties depends. But, again, it
is obvious that our ordinary mental powers, our emotions,
our feelings, and the actions which thence result, are abso-
lutely dependent on our bodily capacities, and our bodily
powers are not less entirely dependent upon our corporeal
structure.
Therefore, in order duly to comprehend our highest in-
tellectual faculties, we needs must begin with a consideration
of at least some points in the construction of the human
body especially that of such parts as minister to feeling in
general, and to our special senses, such as sight and hearing.
X PREFACE
But to appreciate what the human body is, it is necessary,
since nothing can be understood by itself, to learn some-
thing also about other animals, so that we may know what
is the place occupied in nature by that living body of ours
which possesses powers and attributes so wonderful. But a
mere study of structure of anatomy can serve but to
supply us with a knowledge of the material elements indis-
pensable to human thought and feeling. We must also,
therefore, acquire some knowledge as to how the various
parts and organs of the body act during its life, and how
that life is maintained, how the body is formed and nour-
ished, and how, if need be, injuries that it may suffer are
repaired. The living energy of the body, apart from the
feelings and sentiments to which it may give rise, requires
to be understood in a certain degree before we advance to
the consideration of our feelings and sentiments themselves.
Such an elementary acquaintance with both anatomy and
physiology will serve to pave the way for our entrance upon
the first stage of our proper subject, namely, the study of
the human mind in its ultimate pursuit of science. In the
first stage of this psychological inquiry, it will be necessary
to consider what our own intellect tells us concerning the
various kinds and orders of psychical activity whereof our
total mental life is made up. It is evidently desirable to
ascertain what, if any, psychical activities besides sensation
are most closely connected therewith, what are most allied
in nature to our unconscious energies, and whether by the
aid of reflection, memory, and inference, we can detect the
existence of psychical states of which we were unconscious
when they were being actually carried on. Evidently, it will
also be desirable to ascertain, if possible, whether in the
absence of consciousness we possess any other central and
unifying psychical faculty, and, if so, what are its utmost
powers and capabilities. Very special attention also needs
PREFACE
XI
to be given to the consideration of the phenomena of
instinct.
But as idealists appear to bar the way to what, for all but
themselves, can alone lead to a satisfactory Epistemology, so
a distinguished school of naturalists oppose an analogous,
though very different, obstacle to our even entertaining a
reasonable hope that we may be able to see and comprehend
what are and must be the foundations of science.
What confidence, it has been asked, can we place in the
declaration of an ape's mind ? Now we by no means admit
that were the human intellect and the highest powers of
brutes really of one kind (so that the essential rationality of
animals was simply restrained by circumstances from making
itself manifest), any valid ground for distrusting truths,
which to us are self-evident, would thence arise. On the
contrary, instead of giving us good reasons for such distrust,
it would but supply us with an amply sufficient motive for
an enormously increased regard for what we might certainly
then, with reason, call our " poor relations." What seems
to us to be clear and indisputably evident in and by itself,
and what reason demonstrates absolutely, can be none the
less true on account of its cause and origin, or the mode in
which it may have become manifest. It is plain that in our
own case the truths which are for us most certain must
have been gained through the evolution and development
s of psychical power latent in the mind of an unconscious in-
fant, which once showed no sign whatever of rationality.
Why then should we distrust the dictates of a mind evolved
from creatures which, though giving no evidence of actual
rationality, afford us far more signs of cognitive energy than
does the child for some time after its birth ?
Nevertheless, since there are so many persons who do feel
a sceptical distrust of their reason on account of the source
from whence they believe it to have had its origin, it will,
xii PREFACE
we think, be most advisable to consider carefully the ques-
tion whether or not there seems to be a difference of kind
between the highest psychical energy found present in the
brute and the intellect of man. This is simply a question
of fact.
Now, since man certainly possesses, besides his intellect,
the sensitivity, faculty of sense-association, desires, emo-
tions, instincts, and powers of emotional manifestation with
which the higher animals are endowed, it will be incumbent
on us to ascertain whether man's lower mental faculties, with-
out the exercise of conscious intellect, will not suffice to ex-
plain all the various more or less intelligent actions which
mere animals display. Should such turn out to be the case,
and should both the positive and negative evidence concern-
ing rationality concur in affirming that there is no need to
attribute intellect to animals, then it must be admitted that
a difference of kind is thereby demonstrated to exist be-
tween them and ourselves. But there is one other question
which requires very special care in its examination. It is
plain that, as a rule, all men speak while animals are dumb.
A special consideration is therefore demanded for language.
If it should prove that we have two sets of faculties (higher
and lower), have we also two corresponding modes of ex-
pression ? It is plain that we and animals make signs. It
will be necessary, therefore, carefully to inquire and distin-
guish as to what a sign really is, and, if there are different
kinds of signs, what relation they bear to the intellect ? It
will be further most necessary to examine the relations which
exist between gestures and vocal expressions, and, above all,
the relations which both of these bear to thought and to the
faculty of forming and communicating abstract ideas, and
the perception of relations as such. But that we may not,
through neglect, underestimate the psychical powers of
animals, it will be well to pass in review some of the more
PREFACE xiii
striking anecdotes of animal intelligence in both the lower
and higher classes of the animal kingdom. Remarkably
divergent forms of speech of both infants and savages would
likewise seem to require some notice, as also the question as
to the origin of speech.
If the result of this somewhat prolonged inquiry should be
a conviction that between the highest psychical powers of
men and animals there is a difference of kind a difference
absolute and not consisting of degrees of difference it
would then be a question whether such a breach of con-
tinuity, such a new departure, stands alone, or whether there
are others, analogous sudden interruptions, to be met with
in nature ? If we become convinced that it is an unques-
tionable fact that there are other breaches of continuity
such, for example, as between the inorganic and organic
worlds and between insentient and sentient organisms then
a priori probability will become thereby established in favour
of a breach of continuity between merely sentient animality
and the rational animality of man.
All these introductory inquiries (as to the conditions nec-
essary for the existence of science; as to idealism ; as to
what science implies ; as to both physical and psychical
antecedents of science; and as to the place in nature of the
human intellect) having been disposed of, we shall next have
to examine into our own highest intellectual powers. In
beginning that examination, existing circumstances, and
the prevalent prejudices of the day, compel us expressly
to consider the bearing upon our estimate as to the rank
and value of our own mental powers, of the widely ac-
cepted doctrine of " natural selection." If we come to
recognise that we are in the possession of self-evident
truths which could never have given their possessors an
improved chance of survival, then it is clear that our
apprehension of such truths could never have been gained
xiv PREFA CE
by " natural selection," but must be altogether independ-
ent thereof.
But it is evidently necessary, in order to decide this ques-
tion, that we should be acquainted with those of our powers
which we might expect to be least dependent on " natural
selection," and for this it will be necessary to revert (once
more, and more fully) to the questions of certainty and of
what must be, if anything can be, its criterion. This, again,
will necessarily lead us to examine more carefully the pos-
sible self-evidence of propositions, the knowledge of our
own existence, and the trustworthiness of memory as vouch-
ing for such existence in the past.
Then, also, if we conclude jt to be true that we can know
objects of knowledge as they exist objectively (or in them-
selves) the problem of the special relation which must, in
that case, exist between " subject " and " object," will
have to be investigated. The decision of this question will
naturally lead us to a further investigation of first principles
underlying all our reasoning, what they are, and whether
we can attain to an evident and logical adjustment of truths.
Amongst the most important of such principles, and one
about which the most vigorous disputations have taken
place, is the principle of causation. The truth and validity
of this principle, if it can once be established, have evidently
most important consequences bearing upon the cause and
origin of our own intuitions, and upon the existence, quali-
ties, and powers of the entire cosmos. Here the theory of
" natural selection " again courts our notice ; and its
bearing on the living world will have to be considered in
the light derived from that far larger and more enduring
world, which is inorganic and lifeless. The question con-
cerning the significance of human faculty as a part of the
universe will come next, and bring to a conclusion all but
the main question to be dealt with.
PREFACE XV
When, in our final chapter, we have to apply ourselves
directly to that main question, in the light derived from the
various preceding investigations, the groundwork of science
will, we are persuaded, be found to consist of three divisions :
the labourers who work, the tools they must employ, and
that which constitutes the field of their labour. Taking
the last first, it will, we think, appear that the matter of
science is partly physical and partly psychical. In relation
with the former, questions concerning the various physical
energies, matter, motion, space, and time must be noted,
and an inquiry made as to the value of a mechanical theory
of the universe, and the reasons why it is so commonly ac-
ceptable. Next must come some reference to the tools
which must be made use of, namely, those first principles
and universal, necessary, self-evident truths which lie, so
frequently unnoticed, within the human intellect, and which
are absolutely indispensable for valid reasoning. Finally,
the nature of the workers themselves must also be noticed,
as necessarily affecting the value of their work; and, last of
all, a few words must be devoted to the question whether
there is any, and, if any, what, foundation underlying the
whole groundwork of science, and giving support and
validity to that entire conception of the universe which an
impartial study of the phenomena it exhibits may have led
us to regard as alone consonant with the dictates of reason.
ST. G. M.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE .'''''... . . . iii
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
CHAPTER II
AN ENUMERATION OF THE SCIENCES 16
CHAPTER III
\ \
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 34
CHAPTER IV
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 89
CHAPTER V
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE ...... 108
CHAPTER VI
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE ..... 137
CHAPTER VII
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE . 186
xviii CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER VIII
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE . . . . .215
CHAPTER IX
CAUSES 'OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 255
CHAPTER X
THE NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE .... 296
THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
THE
GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
CHAPTER I
IN TROD UCTOR Y
THE century now so near its close has been distinguished
from all preceding centuries by the rapid, varied, and
continuous progress in science that it has witnessed. An
interest in, and a real love for, science have by degrees
ceased to be confined to a limited society of experts, and
have happily become diffused far and wide amongst all
classes of society.
The scientific spirit is, above all, an inquiring spirit. It
can never rest satisfied with what has become known, but
must ever press on in all directions into fields of truth yet
unexplored, and even seek to ascend into regions commonly
deemed inaccessible to human research. But the results of
these praiseworthy endeavours, however successful they may
be, cannot by themselves fully satisfy the scientific mind.
It is not only the phenomena surrounding us which demand
exploration. Reason cannot be satisfied until it has probed,
to the utmost of its power, the depths of science itself, and
either ascertained what is and must be its ultimate founda-
2 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
tions, or assured itself that such fundamental knowledge is
beyond the scope and power of human endeavour.
It is not enough for the true man of science to be ac-
quainted with many sciences, and to reflect on the know-
ledge he so possesses. The rational mind sooner or later
seeks to know what is the basis of his own knowledge and
the ultimate groundwork of all science. It thus calls for a
science of science, and cannot rest satisfied without a pur-
suit of Epistemology, or the study of the grounds of all the
learning the mind of man can acquire.
It is an attempt to satisfy this rational desire to which the
present volume is devoted. Such an attempt appears to us
greatly needed at the present time when every branch of
science is rapidly becoming more and more subdivided.
For the fact of that very subdivision makes a comprehensive
contemplation of science and of nature, as one whole, both
more and more difficult, and also more and more requisite
for the satisfaction of the intellect.
Epistemology is a product of mental maturity, individual
and racial ; but, sooner or later, a demand for it is inevitable,
while the attainment of a satisfactory response to that de-
mand is not only a thing to be pursued for its own sake, but
will be found an aid to the study of every separate science
and an introduction to them all. This science of the
grounds and groundwork of science is one to the study of
which gifted minds are spontaneously impelled, as ordinary
minds are impelled to acquire at least the rudiments of
ordinary scientific truth. For all men (not congenitally de-
fective) are, in fact, forced by a natural and spontaneous
impulse to seek and to acquire some knowledge. To most,
knowledge is pleasurable, while many pursue it with passion,
and find in its possession a perennial source of happiness.
Amongst the latter are to be found men of the noblest
minds; for though right action, rather than right thinking,
IN TR OD UC TOR Y 3
constitutes the highest human activity, yet the will cannot
act with good effect unless the intellect be first sufficiently
informed.
The earliest known ages of man's existence have afforded
us pictorial evidence of some endeavour after knowledge,
while the relics of Egypt, Babylon, and China speak plainly
of its deliberate and systematic pursuit.
But an ordered, systematic pursuit of knowledge is
" science " ; for " science " is but the careful and exact ap-
plication of ordinary reason and good sense to the examina-
tion of any object we seek, as best we may, to understand.
The endeavour thus to obtain the most complete knowledge
possible about any subject of investigation, whatever it may
be, constitutes the highest form of science, for it necessitates
the study of Epistemology.
When we first deliberately and reflectively survey the
world about us, we may well be appalled by the immense
variety of objects and activities which on every side seem to
solicit our attention. Striking differences, however, be-
tween many of these become at once obvious, and, little by
little, they are found to arrange themselves in groups ac-
cording to their apparent degrees of likeness and unlikeness.
Such groups roughly correspond with those various branches
of human inquiry which have grown into distinct yet con-
nected systems of ordered knowledge, familiarly known as
so many different sciences. Among them are the sciences
which deal with the celestial bodies ; with the earth, its
structure and formation; with the multitudinous tribes of
living creatures which people its surface, and with the
human race.
Ordered and systematic knowledge considers such subjects
from various points of view and along different lines of
thought. But two questions commonly suggest themselves
with respect to each new object or event which comes within
4 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
the sphere of our experience. Having recognised its exist-
ence, or " that it is," the first of these questions asks,
"What is it ? "; the second makes the inquiry, " Why is
it ? " Whence does it arise ? How does it come to be ?
Demands which thus rise to the lips even of the child
must assuredly be included amongst the problems which
systematic knowledge investigates. They constitute indeed
the most searching inquiries which science can carry on with
respect to whatsoever objects may become the subject of its
labours. To classify each object or event with its congeners
is one great end of scientific inquiry, and such an end was
attained in each case when the fundamental similarity be-
came understood between the fall of any object to the earth's
surface and the moon's motions; between the electric spark
and the lightning's flash ; and between that hugest of the
ocean's inhabitants, the whale, and the little bat which flits
through the summer air at twilight. These may serve as
familiar examples of approximate answers to the question,
" What is it ? " The origin of the solar system, the ex-
planation of reflex and sensori-motor actions, 1 and the
genesis of new species of animals and plants, are instances
of most interesting scientific inquiries as to the " how "
and " why " of matters of scientific or of ordinary experi-
ence.
Knowledge is initiated in the individual by the actions of
surrounding objects upon his organs of sense, which objects
the child becomes gradually able to perceive more or less
distinctly. Self-knowledge is of later origin, and much ac-
quaintance with the external world is acquired before the
attention of anyone becomes directed to his own mental
processes and his internal experiences.
1 Movements which take place independent of the will on the occurrence of
some sensation, as the movements of swallowing take place when a morsel is
felt at the back part of the mouth.
IN TR OD UC TOR Y 5
So it is with the lower races of mankind and the least
cultivated members of civilised communities. Physical
phenomena attract their attention almost exclusively, and
usually they attend but slightly, or hardly at all, to matters
psychical. All men also, however cultivated, are continually
impelled and compelled to notice what they regard as sur-
rounding objects, to the apprehension of which the mind
applies itself with extreme facility. But they are by no
means so often impelled to notice their own mental states.
Now, as we all know, " practice makes perfect," and new
or unfamiliar modes of activity are generally at first unwel-
come and performed with comparative difficulty. It is small
wonder, then, that to most men the study of their own
minds and mental processes is at first both repugnant and
difficult.
But a moment's reflection will suffice to make clear to the
reader that if he would become acquainted with the ground-
work of science, he must also carefully inform himself re-
specting the means and conditions indispensable for that
inquiry. No language can be fully understood without a
knowledge of its grammar, and no art can be successfully
pursued by anyone who is^ ignorant as to the nature and
use of the tools needed for its exercise. Obviously the
study of objects and actions around us, as they are com-
monly apprehended, and also as the results of the most care-
ful examination, lies at the base of every science, and is
therefore closely connected with the study of the ground-
work of science. But none of the objects of any science,
however simply physical, can be comprehended by us with-
out the employment of certain mental tools of different
kinds, which must be used in the right manner. No science
can be properly cultivated without a certain amount of hard
work, and in order to lay bare and see clearly the founda-
tions of all science, such work is especially needed. It is
6 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
on this account we have chosen for our title The Ground-
work of Science, it being our desire to point out not only
what those foundations are, but also the tools to be used
and the kind of work requisite for their discovery and
correct apprehension. The study of psychical states being
thus indispensable, it is fortunate that the difficulty anyone
may find in turning the mind inwards upon itself can soon
be overcome ; for the faculties of introspection and retro-
spection, like our other faculties, can be strengthened by
exercise, and all that is ordinarily needed to perfect it is
patient perseverance.
Perceptions of external and internal facts are primary
elements of science. But neither physical facts alone, nor
mental facts alone, will suffice for even the commencement
of science. For that, conceptions, which are the result of
both, are needed. The facts our senses make known to us
are the existences and actions of what we regard as in-
dividual objects, while mental facts are individual states of
what is known as " the mind " : states in which we act or
are acted on. All that we thus know are real individual (or
concrete) existences and activities. But with such materials
only the intellect could do no work at all. Thoughts, of
which words are the external signs, relate not to what con-
cerns external or internal individual things, but each thought
relates to many things of the same kind, i. e., to " univers-
als." Almost always thoughts, and the words which ex-
press them, refer to and denote what is abstract instead of
concrete, and what is universal instead of individual. The
thought symbolised by the word " triangle " does not refer
to any individual, concrete triangle, nor even to a definite
kind of triangle (e.g., to an equilateral or non-equilateral
one), but refers to " triangle-in-general " to a triangle con-
sidered as abstract and universal, and to all triangles as
members of one class of figures. It is the same with every
IN TROD UCTOR Y >j
noun-substantive which is not a proper name, with every
adjective, and with every verb. The words " apple,"
" red," " fallen," are equally applicable to every kind of
apple, to whatever object is of a red tint, and to everything
which has fallen from a higher to a lower level.
It is impossible intelligently to utter the simplest sentence
no savage could even say "Spear broken!" without
making use of highly abstract ideas. Indeed, the highest
and most abstract of all ideas, that of " being " or " exist-
ence," is necessarily implied in every statement we make
and every question we ask. Again, no progress in science
is possible without apprehending degrees of likeness and
unlikeness, perceptions as to which constitute the basis of
all classification. But neither " likeness " nor " unlikeness "
can, of course, exist by itself in the concrete, and no single
object taken by itself can be either one or the other. But
as with likeness, so with every relation in which one object
or action can possibly stand to another object or action, we
can only apprehend it by means of an abstract idea, and as
all science consists of a study and comprehension of " re-
lations," so all science is essentially abstract, although
derived from, and accurately applicable to, real concrete
states of real concrete things.
" Thoughts " in one sense are concrete, individual mental
(or psychical) realities, as truly as a heap of stones are con-
crete physical realities. But the meaning of a thought and
its oral expression e. g. t " triangle " or " apple " is (as
just said) abstract. Nevertheless, it is not purely mental,
but refers to real things which constitute the " class " to
which the abstract term refers the class of triangles and the
class of apples each real concrete member of each such
class possessing the real concrete characters referred to by
the abstract term. Thus these " thoughts " so considered
are not simply mental any more than simply physical.
8 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
They are ideas which have their roots in the real concrete
character of real concrete things. Therefore what we mainly
make use of are these activities of a mixed nature in essence
psychical and in reference, generally, physical. It is thus
we apprehend the relations between the various existences
known to us. And the work of science may be said to con-
sist (i) in the accurate classification of perceived objects, and
the relations which exist between them, both simultaneous
and successive which are often called " the co-existences
and sequences of phenomena" and (2) in estimating the
possibility, probability, necessity, or impossibility of their
recurrence. Thus are formulated what are commonly called
" laws of nature." Some of these so-called " laws" are
termed " empirical," because they merely express. co-exist-
ences and sequences which have been observed to exist as
facts, apart from any knowledge of the causes which produce
them. Necessary laws, on the other hand, are such as we
can perceive to be the inevitable result of known causes, or
such as possess other evidence of their universal truth.
Some scientific truths must be directly evident (in and
through perception) or science could make no beginning;
but we must also be able to attain to truths which are
indirectly evident (in and through reasoning or infer-
ence), otherwise we could make no progress, and so sci-
ence would remain a mere mass of empirically ascertained
data.
Now, amongst the laws of nature are the laws which, so
to speak, regulate the mode in which mental processes
should be carried on in order to secure valid and satisfactory
results and to avoid mistakes and fallacies in our judgments
and inferences. Therefore, since science depends, and must
depend, largely on reasoning, it imperatively requires not
only the greatest care with respect to the observation of
facts, but also the greatest care that, in our inferences, those
INTRODUCTORY 9
laws of thought the violation of which induces error, should
in no case be disobeyed.
In every human perception, and therefore of course in
every perception wherewith science is concerned, there are
two constituents (i) the mental or " subjective" constit-
uent the psychical modification of the subject, /'. e., of
him who perceives and (2) the external or " objective "
constituent that (of whatever it may consist and whatever
be its cause) which is the object cognised or perceived in the
psychical act of cognition or perception on the part of the
subject. Again, in every act of intellectual cognition or
perception, there are also two elements (i) the sensational
and (2) the intellectual.
In the earliest stages of mental life, psychical action
though no doubt partly excited by internal feelings (that is,
by feelings due to physical changes in the internal bodily
organs) is mainly roused to activity, as before said, by the
action of external bodies upon the infant's organs of sense
and, through them, upon its central and supreme nervous
organ, its brain. Numerous feelings are thus aroused and
subsequently experienced again and again in various com-
binations of co-existence and sequence of feelings thus
excited by external objects. These experiences lay the
foundation for subsequent minute brain modifications, the
accompaniment of which are what we call " mental images,"
" imaginations," or " phantasmata. " Such mental phe-
nomena are internal feelings, and resemble, more or less
closely, the feelings previously excited by external objects.
Without the aid of such mental images, or imaginations,
it is impossible for us to think at all, while it is impossible
for us to imagine aught save things which our senses have
previously experienced, either entire or in their constituent
parts. Our sense-impressions can, as it seems to us, alone
furnish a basis and support on which the intellect may build
IO THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
and act, and it can build nothing except upon a foundation
of sense-impressions, nor can it take a step without the aid
of the imagination. Thus sensations and subsequent mental
images are both the necessary antecedents and also the in-
dispensable accompaniments of all our ideas, however ab-
stract or refined.
Nevertheless, it would (in our opinion) be the greatest
mistake possible to affirm that there is absolutely nothing in
the intellect save what previously existed in our sensations.
To say this would be to deny the essential distinctness which
exists between " ideas " and " feelings," whether the latter
are " sensations " or " mental images." As to the signifi-
cation of the word " idea," our definition would be " an
intellectual representation of an object either actually exist-
ing or merely possible."
One or two examples may suffice to show how, by the
help of sensations, and mental images, the mind rises to the
conceptions of ideas beyond the power of mere feeling.
Thus we often refer to some past " experience," and the
idea is a sufficiently familiar one, yet that idea cannot pos-
sibly be a faint reproduction of past feelings, for " experi-
ence " is an abstract term, and, therefore, denotes something
which never could have been felt at all. By receiving or
obtaining over and over again feelings of the same or of
different kinds, we may feel them more easily, more pleasur-
ably, or (as is too often the case) more painfully. But to
undergo such changes of feeling, and to obtain the idea
" experience," are two very different things.
Again, we can all form an idea of the action of our eyes
in seeing (our act of sight), yet that act of seeing was never
itself felt, nor can the idea be decomposed into mere feelings
it contains much more. We may have certain feelings in
our eyeballs while looking, but even if we could feel (which
we cannot) every minute action of every part of the eyes
IN TR OD UC TOR Y \ \
and of the brain's complex mechanism, such feelings would
be no " idea of the act of seeing." Among the constant
experiences of our daily life are our perceptions of different
shades of colour, and different feelings have accompanied
such perceptions. But of " colour" we have never once
had a feeling ; yet we have a clear idea of it and often speak
of it.
We have certainly another idea which was never felt, and
that is our idea of " nothing," or " nonentity." It is very
certain that past sensations can never account for thai con-
ception, which is nevertheless commonly enough employed.
How often do we not hear such expressions as " It is worth
nothing," or, " There is nothing in it " ?
That our powers of mental conception are not tied down
to experience is shown by the very fact that we can conceive
of its not being so tied down, and also that we conceive of
other senses besides those which we possess such, e. g., as
senses which might enable us to feel the chemical composi-
tion, or the magnetic currents and condition, of different
bodies. We can conceive of possible experiences which are
as remote from being actual as would be perceptions of
colour gained by most carefully listening with the ear, or
musical harmonies detected by specially contrived lenses
carefully fitted to our microscopes.
This essential distinction may be further shown by the
fact that one and the same intellectual conception can be
initiated and supported by a variety of very different sets of
feelings, while a single set of feelings may initiate and sup-
port a number of divergent intellectual conceptions. Thus
the one abstract idea, " motion," may be initiated or sup-
ported by our actual experience or mere imagination of (i)
the sight of something traversing our field of vision ; (2) a
feeling of something slipping through the hand ; (3) a sound
as of falling waters; (4) one like that accompanying the
12 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
ascent of a rocket; (5) the sight of a bow and arrow, a
musket, or a pile of cannon-balls; (6) the name of a well-
known race-horse; (7) dance-music from a familiar ballet;
(8) the smell of a fox, and so on.
So also with a single set of feelings, such as those we
might experience after gazing upon a marble statue of
Shakespeare : its aspect, or even our mere recollection of it,
might give rise to and support a number of very diverse in-
tellectual conceptions. Thus it might lead us to conceive
of (i) the man Shakespeare who once lived; (2) the Eliza-
bethan age ; (3) the man's merit as a dramatist ; (4) of poetry
as an art ; (5) plays we have seen acted ; (6) theatrical mise
en scene ; (7) the name and merit of the statue's sculptor;
(8) the appearance of the marble ; (9) the mountains of Car-
rara; (10) the geographical age of the limestone; (ii)the
creatures which existed whilst it was being deposited; (12)
marble as a substance; (13) the particular piece making the
statue; (14) individuality; and lastly (15) the idea of being
or existence.
To state this distinction as shortly as possible, it may be
pointed out that our sensitive faculty is affected by sur-
rounding objects in various ways, but that it is the intellect
alone which can apprehend the relations in which they
stand to it and to each other, and that such relations do, in
fact, exist. But it is plain that to understand the relative
position of two objects, we must perceive both of them and
turn back the mind (reflect) from the last to the first per-
ceived. Without so doing, their spatial relations, their re-
lations as to position, could not possibly be apprehended.
Again, feelings (both sensations and imaginations) can
never reflect on feelings ; but thought can reflect on thought.
Feeling may be so intense as to annihilate itself and pro-
duce insensibility as light may dazzle and blind; but an
idea can never be too bright and clear, and no amount of
IN TROD UCTOR Y 1 3
vividness on the part of the intellect can mar intellectual
perception.
The profound and essential distinction which exists be-
tween (i) an idea, or intellectual conception, and (2) a
feeling felt or imagined is particularly conspicuous with
respect to our idea of ' ' being " or ' ' existence. ' ' That idea
is so fundamental that it is simply applicable to everything,
while without it nothing can be apprehended. No group of
feelings could possibly give us a feeling of " being," because
there neither is nor can be one feeling common to all other
feelings, and yet a feeling of a distinguishable kind. Never-
theless, though we have no " feeling " of " being," the
idea of " being " lies at the root of all our conceptions, and
is present (though, of course, it is not reflected on) in the
mind of the young child who asks what that " thing " is.
It may be well further to contrast our " feelings " and our
" intellectual perceptions " from yet another point of view.
In the pursuit of every science we have to make use of
both, and the way we should regard them the relations in
which they stand to each other is supremely important for
those who would enter upon the science of the sciences
Epistemology. To determine what is most certain and most
fundamental, it is obvious that we need to see clearly what
is and must be the nature of our absolute and ultimate
criterion of truth in all cases.
There are some persons who would assign the dignity of
an ultimate test of reality and truth to our sensitive faculty.
But a little careful consideration will be enough to show the
investigator that it is the intellect alone which is, and must
be, supreme; and this not only in judging about recondite
problems, but even in deciding concerning things which
we see, hear, feel, etc., and concerning all concrete experi-
ences as they actually occur. Thus, even with those matters
which can be submitted to the test of sensation, the last
14 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
word, in all cases of doubt, rests with the intellect and not
with the senses. It might seem that in making experiments
with different bodies (as in chemistry), when we directly ap-
peal to our senses for information, those senses must be our
ultimate criterion ; yet such is not the case. The enormous
value and indispensable nature of our sensations is obvious
and unquestionable. Observation and experiment are al-
ways, of course, to be made use of, when possible, for verify-
ing our inferences. Nevertheless, in the last resource, when
we have done experimenting, how do we know, with absolute
certainty, that we have obtained such results as we may have
obtained ? Manifestly by the intellect. How otherwise are
we to judge between what may seem to be the conflicting
indications of different sense-impressions ? Nothing could
.be more foolish than to undervalue the testimony of the
senses, which are both tests and causes of certainty. They
are not, however, the test of it. Certainty does not pertain
to sensation, but to thought alone. Self-conscious, reflect-
ive thought, then, is our ultimate and absolute criterion. It
is by thought only by the self-conscious intellect that we
know we have " feelings " at all. Without that we might
indeed feel, but we could not have complete certainty as to
our feeling and know assuredly that we possessed it. Our
ultimate court of appeal and supreme criterion is the intel-
lect and not sense, and our act of intellectual perception
which is thus ultimate, which both knows what it knows and
knows that it knows it, with absolute certainty, which is
above any possibility of proof and is self-evident in and to
itself, is called " intellectual intuition."
The matters thus put forward in a simple elementary way
in this introductory chapter will be treated of more fully
and scientifically when we begin to grapple with the most
fundamental questions concerning human knowledge. We
have here somewhat anticipated what we shall have to say
IN TROD UCTOR Y \ 5
in our eighth chapter. We have, however, felt ourselves
forced so to do, as otherwise we could hardly make clear
matters we must deal with almost immediately.
Here, at the outset, we take for granted that a world of
material, independent objects, possessing various powers and
activities, exists about us ; also that we possess a material,
extended body, so organised as to produce in us feelings of
various kinds which are closely connected with our percep-
tions and our judgments.
Taking these data provisionally as unquestionable facts,
it may, we think, suffice to affirm and point out what will
be fully demonstrated later on, that, though in the invlsti-
gation of science we should make use of all our available
powers and faculties our powers of feeling, imagination,
sensuous perception, memory, and inference yet that our
intellect's declaration, as to what is here and now certainly
and self-evidently true, is our supreme guide, and the most
powerful and effective instrument for our use in every inquiry
we make. A provisional assent to this statement and a
temporary obedience to the law thus set forth, is all we wish
to ask of those who would follow us in our investigation
concerning the groundwork of science.
CHAPTER II
AN ENUMERATION OF THE SCIENCES
A BRIEF enumeration of the principal sciences, the
^ groundwork of which it is our business to inquire
into, may fitly, we think, precede the inquiry itself.
Various attempts have been made at a classification of the
sciences according to the subjects about which they are oc-
cupied; some sciences being set down as " abstract," others
as "abstract-concrete," and yet others as "concrete"
simply.
All such attempts we regard as futile. Every science is
a definitely organised system of recognised relations between
thoughts and objects, between thoughts and thoughts, and
between objects and objects; and no science can be learned
save by the aid of language, spoken, written, or both. But
all language is highly abstract ; nor can the most concrete
objects (e. g. y a tray of specimens of different minerals) be
apprehended and compared save by the aid of very abstract
ideas.
On the other hand, not the most abstract of all ideas, that
of " being," or " existence," can be made use of without
reference to some concrete reality to which that idea truly
applies. Even the most extreme of idealists, he who thinks
that the whole universe about him is but the creation of his
own mind, or he who deems it (his own being and thoughts
included) to be but passing phases of some other unknown
16
AN ENUMERATION OF THE SCIENCES \J
mind each such idealist must regard that mind he so con-
ceives of as a concrete reality and the object of thought.
Everything which can be an object of study has multi-
tudinous relations, of most varied orders, to other objects
and to the mind which studies it. A sphere of crystal, as
being a single object, solid, transparent, spherical, of a
definite weight, of a certain chemical composition, of a cer-
tain temperature, capable of projection in various directions
and at definite velocities, as a manufactured object, made
in a certain locality, for a definite purpose, etc., etc., ob-
viously possesses numerous relations, and cannot be fully
understood save from many points of view and by the aid
of abstract ideas of very different orders.
How difficult, then, must be the task of classifying the
sciences according to the degrees of abstraction made use of
by them, seeing that every one of them is, in fact, highly
abstract. It is true that an effort might be made to classify
them on other lines, as, for example, from an historical
point of view. This, however, would obviously be most
unsatisfactory were we to try and arrange them in the order
wherein the objects they treat of become known in the
history of the individual mind ; and hardly less unsatisfactory
would be an endeavour to arrange according to the date of
their origin as sciences. Could astrology and alchemy be
deemed incipient stages of astronomy and chemistry ? The
mere fact that such a question can be asked is enough to
lead us to abandon the task of attempting an historical
classification.
For our part, we shall not try to construct any classifica-
tion of the sciences at all, but will content ourselves with
the humble task of their brief enumeration, endeavouring,
at the same time, to indicate some of their logical relations
one to another.
Indeed, reason, it seems, does not permit us to concede
1 8 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
that any one science has an indefeasible claim to priority,
for conflicting, apparently equal, claims point in various
directions.
Our own body is the object we most intimately know,
and next might be ranked the objects most closely related
to us, and with which we are the most familiar. But such
things, taken together, do not constitute any distinct science.
There is, however, one property which belongs to them
and to everything else we can think of likewise to every
separate object, natural or artificial, to every motion or ap-
pearance, and even to every thought we can entertain about
any possible object.
To know anything whatever, is to know that it is distinct
from something else. Two marbles, alike in colour, size,
shape, and weight, are known with perfect certainty to be
distinct, though we may not, when apart, be able to tell one
from the other. We recognise them as two things of the
same kind, and together they form " a pair." If we have
elsewhere a group of three marbles exactly like the first two,
then these two groups differ in number. " Number " is a
property possessed by every object, motion, or appearance,
and even by every thought.
The one thing which alike pertains to everything we
know, terrestrial or celestial, material or mental, is " num-
ber. ' ' Probably it was this truth which underlay the system
of Pythagoras, who, more than two thousand four hundred
years ago, taught that " number " was the principle of all
things.
But the study of that which is thus common to every-
thing is the study of mathematics. Therefore mathematics,
as the science of number, would seem to have a reasonable
claim to be regarded as the most fundamental of all the
sciences, since it pertains to every other, and no other can
be pursued without it.
AN ENUMERATION OF THE SCIENCES 19
Nevertheless, another science can advance a claim seem-
ingly as unanswerable in another respect as is the claim of
mathematics, as just stated. No science can claim to be
absolutely primary which has to depend on another science
for explanation and comprehension. Mathematics is a
science of " number"; but what is " number " ? More-
over, numbers are alike or not unlike, and a perception of
" likeness and unlikeness " was declared, in our introductory
chapter, to be at the base of all the sciences. What, then,
it must be further asked, is " likeness " ? May not the
science which can solve these riddles justly claim to under-
lie, and be prior to, the science of mathematics ?
The idea of "number" implies comparison, together
with a recognition that the things compared are similar, and
yet not identical. Things which are quite dissimilar such
as, e. ., "a violet blossom " and " a fall in consols "
cannot be said to be two, unless it be two expressions or two
thoughts in which respects they are alike. But the idea of
number, inasmuch as it recognises things as similar but not
identical, implies many things besides similarity and iden-
tity. In every perception of number there are, and must
be, latent the ideas of " existence," " distinction," " simil-
arity," " unity," and " truth," as a little reflection will
show. Thus, to say " there are two sheep," implies that
they are not merely imaginary, but that they actually exist ;
that they are not seen double by some optical delusion, but
are really distinct ; that they are certainly both sheep and
not one of them a goat i. e., that they are similar, and that
they have that unity of nature which we have just seen to
be necessary in order that they should be susceptible of
numeration, and finally the assertion implies that the
thought of the assertion corresponds with objective reality,
that is, it implies truth.
It may be replied that mathematics deals with abstractions
20 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
and considers numerical relations of things apart from the
things themselves. The assertion is most true, but from
that very fact it must be applicable to all things and would
be mere nonsense apart from the implication that there
really are things, be it only thoughts, to which the idea of
number can be really and truly applicable. And if thoughts
are to be capable of enumeration they must have existence,
distinction, similarity, unity, and truth, just as a pair of
sheep (as above pointed out) must possess those attributes.
But this degree of similarity between things so essentially
dissimilar as ' ' thoughts ' ' and ' ' sheep, ' ' suggests the further
question, " What is likeness ? "
Now a moment's reflection must make it evident to any
thinker that not everything can be defined or explained.
If there were not some things capable of being understood
without definition and explanation, then nothing whatever
could ever be understood at all ; for in that case the pro-
cesses of definition and explanation would have to be car-
ried on forever. Now " likeness," like " number," can be
clearly seen to imply ideas of existence, distinction, unity,
and truth; but that, of course, is no explanation of it. It
is one of those primary, ultimate, fundamental ideas which
(like the idea of " existence " or " being ") is incapable of
definition or explanation just because it is so simple. For
to say that two things are " alike " when they are identical
in some respect, or respects, does not deserve to be called
an explanation. For to recognise that two objects are iden-
tical in certain respects we must be aware that their other
respects are alike in not being identical. Anyone who
thinks he cannot understand what he means when he says
two things are " alike," or when he declares, " there is a
4 likeness ' between them," may as well give up the attempt
to understand any branch of science and, a fortiori, its
groundwork. But the science of mathematics enables us to
AN ENUMERATION OF THE SCIENCES 21
prove a vast quantity of truths which would be inaccessible
to the human mind without its aid. By its help truths, ap-
plicable to all existing things, can be deduced from other
truths by means of various processes of inference. But can
mathematics, which thus makes use of " proofs," dispense
with the aid of that science upon which it thus leans: which
tells us in what proof consists, and lays down the laws by
obedience to which alone valid inference can be carried on
and truth attained ? Now, such a science is logic. Surely,
then, logic may advance a strong claim to be the most
fundamental, and, therefore, to head our list of the sciences.
But to comprehend logic, speech is necessary, and though,
as we shall hereafter see, there are strong grounds for con-
cluding that speech was posterior to thought, nevertheless
here and now, the use of, and a considerable knowledge
about, speech is long anterior to our comprehension of, or
even to the very first application of our minds to, logic.
Therefore, the science which treats of human speech could
also advance a claim to priority.
But, as before said, logic is essentially the science of the
art of proof, and all proof must repose upon certain data.
Therefore, such data must, in the first place, be either per-
ceptions which we have concerning our own mental states
and operations, or perceptions concerning external things,
or conceptions of, and reflections about, one or the other, or
both of these.
But all these are forms of psychical activity, or are the
direct results of different forms of psychical activity. Now
these psychical activities must be anterior to any processes
of reasoning, and form the data whence all reasonings pro-
ceed. But the elucidation of these data is the business of
psychology. Surely, then, the science which deals with
the initiation and performance of psychical phenomena
(phenomena which constitute the data and basis of logic)
22 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
may claim priority over, and to be more fundamental than,
logic itself.
But the science of reasoning cannot, for another reason,
validly lay claim to be primary and fundamental, since it
requires other data than those given it by psychology.
Now in order to prove anything by reasoning, we must show
that it necessarily follows, as a consequence, from other
truths, on the truth of which its own truth depends. Such
other truths must therefore be deemed more indispensable
than the thing they are called on to prove. Evidently we
cannot prove everything. However long may be our argu-
ments, we shall at last come to statements which must be
taken for granted as ultimate. One such statement is that
which affirms the validity of reasoning. If we had to prove
the validity of the reasoning process, then either we must
argue in a circle, or our process of proof must go on forever
without ever coming to a conclusion. In other words, there
could be no such thing as proof at all. There must, then,
if any human knowledge is trustworthy, be some truths
which require no proof, but are evident in and by them-
selves. Once more, then, that science, whatever it may be,
which thus deals with the basis of all reasoning, and there-
fore of all psychology, of all logic, and also of all mathe-
matics, would seem to have, if anything has, a valid claim
to be the most primary and fundamental of all sciences.
But the science which does this is metaphysics !
Metaphysics, however, though it thus deals with what is
so primary and fundamental, is a science which has also to
do with the human mind, with our views concerning an ex-
ternal world, and with whatever constitutes the subject-
matter of every other science. For of what does the science
of metaphysics treat ?
In the first place, it may be said to be " the science of the
supersensuous considered objectively."
AN ENUMERA TION OF THE SCIENCES 2$
It is also divisible into two great sections; the first of
these (a) may be distinguished as " general," occupied as
it is about " being," its properties and categories about
" reality " in the sense we give to that term. For us
" reality " is composed of " whatever actually does or
possibly may exist"; while, similarly, " being " is that
which possesses either form of " reality."
" Reality " cannot be anything else but possible or actual,
for there evidently can be nothing intermediate between
the two. Abstract "being" cannot, of course, exist as
conceived by the mind ; but nevertheless it is not absolute
nothing (nihilum), because, though incapable of existence
in itself, the conception is nevertheless realised in things
which do 'exist, while pure nonentity (nihilum) is the abso-
lute negative, and cannot possibly exist in any mode. As
to what is " actual," that term needs, and can have, no
definition, since it'must be implied in every attempt to de-
fine it.
The second great conception (b) of metaphysics may be
called " special," since it concerns itself with definite in-
quiries about cosmology, the world as it appears to the
human intellect, the origin and nature of the latter, with
consequences which appear evidently to follow therefrom in
all directions.
It would, then, be manifestly absurd to place it first upon
our list. It should come; as its name implies, after the
study of all that concerns the external world, and the study
of man as a living and thinking organic being. But not
only must metaphysics, though the most abstract of sciences,
be denied the first place in our list ; something may even be
said for the sciences usually deemed the most concrete. In
fact, a knowledge of the physical precedes that of the
psychical (as was before asserted), and if concrete sciences
need, for their comprehension, abstract ideas, the most ab-
24 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
stract sciences have need of the concrete. Thus psychology
cannot be fully investigated and understood without some
comprehension of our organic frame and its multitudinous
activities. But our body is the subject of anatomy (includ-
ing histology) and its activities, or physiology, while neither
human anatomy nor physiology can be adequately compre-
hended if dealt with alone. For such adequate compre-
hension the aid of comparative anatomy (or morphology)
and comparative physiology which contrast man's form and
functions with those of animals and plants are needed, and
these cannot be made use of without some acquaintance
with zoology and botany. But, again, the creatures about
which the last-named two sciences are concerned, must be
studied with respect to extinct as well as existing species
(palaeontology), and to know that requires a knowledge of
the world's past history (geology), and this cannot be fully
understood without regard to the earth as a member of the
solar system and of the sidereal universe, and so we are led
to astronomy.
We have hitherto passed over (simply because everything
cannot be mentioned at the same time) the study of me-
chanics and of the physical energies gravitation, heat,
light, sound, chemical change, electricity, and magnetism ;
but every one of these sciences is intimately connected with
what concerns the inorganic as well as the whole organic
world. Nor can that study which relates to the origin and
evolution of the world (the only theatre actually known to
us of all the sciences) be said to have no claim to be itself
primary and fundamental. But the whole universe has
been revealed to us by human study alone, and human ac-
tivity is the cause of the existence of all our sciences, on
which account anthropology, the science of man, must be
allowed in its turn some claim to be considered fundamental.
Now if a separate science (physiology) be devoted to the
AN ENUMERATION OF THE SCIENCES 2$
consideration of the activities of animals and plants, surely
the story of human actions has yet more claim on our care-
ful investigation, and the most important results of human
activity are recorded in history, which tells us of the first
beginnings and systematisation of mathematics, psychology,
and logic. And here must also follow on the study of
man's pursuit of his ideals of beauty, truth, and goodness
the history of art, of science, of philosophy, of ethics, and
of religion. All questions of religion, however, will be very
carefully excluded from the present work, all the arguments
in which claim to repose on and appeal to nothing but the
pure dry light of human reason.
But the fact that different religions have existed has been
too often made most painfully evident, and therefore the
recognition of the existence of religions and systems of
theology as facts, cannot possibly be excluded from the
sphere of the sciences any more than the external manifesta-
tions of the inner nature of each such system. Now theo-
logy professes to occupy itself with man's relations to a God
or to gods, and to other superhuman beings, if such there
are, and to his fellow-men, and so may be called (on the
assumption that the only really intelligent animals are men)
" the sociology of intelligences." But this form of sociol-
ogy demands the aid of philosophy, psychology, and history
and ethics. But ethics, like metaphysics, may be divided
into (a) general and (#) special. The former regards the
existence and first principles of ethical distinctions ; the
latter the special application of those principles to society,
the family, and the individual.
But for the due application of those principles to individ-
uals and groups of men we must call in physiology to our
aid, and therefore anatomy, while physiology brings with it
the study of the physical energies (statics, dynamics, thermo-
dynamics, chemistry, optics, acoustics, and the sciences of
26 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
electricity and magnetism), which again necessitates recourse
to mathematics, and once more to logic and psychology.
In a word, all the sciences are connected by such a laby-
rinth of interrelations that the construction of a really satis-
factory classification of them appears to be an insuperable
task. Anyhow, it is a task beyond our powers.
But for our special purpose the explorations of the
foundations of science a systematic classification of
the sciences does not appear necessary. We will therefore
aim at nothing but to place before our readers a catalogue of
the sciences in what seems, to our judgment, a not incon-
venient order. It will also, we think, be well here to
assume the existence of real, external, independent bodies,
as they are commonly supposed to exist, reserving all
questions as to the truth of that supposition for our next
chapter.
Accepting, then, provisionally, the existence of a world
of real and independent external bodies, generally exhibit-
ing some definite shape and figure, with powers of intrinsic
motion, of motion due to external causes, and in all cases
capable of enumeration, we may thus set down the series.
On account of this last characteristic we will place first on
our list the science of Mathematics. This, as the reader of
course well knows, consists of Arithmetic, or the study of
definite quantities of things of whatever kind; of Algebra,
or the use of definite symbols to investigate undefined
quantities of undefined things; and of Geometry, which
studies the properties of figures, the direction of lines, and
the conditions of space in its three dimensions (length,
breadth, and thickness), including the properties of the
sphere, the cone, and the cylinder. Though geometry ap-
pears to have arisen through the desire to measure land
accurately (for which the properties of triangles and their
angles served, and still serve), Greek geometers occupied
AN ENUMERA TION OF THE SCIENCES 2J
themselves, in a purely speculative manner, with the differ-
ent methods in which a circular cone may be cut. The
investigation of the various kinds of curves which may be
produced by cutting across it in different directions, gave
rise to the study we know as Conic Sections.
By various other processes the most varied properties of
objects have been investigated, including complex recipro-
cal relations of increase, decrease, and variation. When
two quantities vary they may do so equally or in different
proportions or ratios. The Differential calculus deals with
computations concerning the rates of change between quan-
tities. The Integral calculus passes from the relation be-
tween such rates back to the relations which exist between
the changing quantities themselves.
We may next pass to the science of Mechanics, with its
subdivisions, Statics, Dynamics, Hydrostatics, Hydrodynam-
ics, and Pneumatics.
;< Mathematics " is, as we have seen, concerned with num-
ber, space, and direction; "' Mechanics" also with time,
motion, and force, and especially the action or effects of
gravity. Mechanics deals also not only with solids but
with fluids, whether liquids or aeriform (or gaseous) sub-
stances; and these whether apparently at rest or in a state
of motion.
Statics concerns itself with equilibrium, the composition
of forces, the lever, the balance, the incline'd plane, etc.
Dynamics considers motion, its velocity, duration, extension,
and direction (according to Newton's three laws), its quan-
tity, acceleration, and retardation, and the law of falling
bodies due to the action of centrifugal and centripetal forces.
In Mechanics it is assumed that solids consist of particles
cohering stably in some definite order, but liquids are sup-
posed to consist of particles which possess freedom of
motion in all directions, each particle pressing equally on
28 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
all those which surround it and being equally pressed on by
them.
In Hydrostatics, therefore, pressure in all directions, and
not only the pressure of gravity, is considered, with the well-
known consequence that the surface of tranquil liquids is
horizontal, and water will always find its own level, and
those concerning the sinking and rising and other motions of
solid bodies in liquids. Hydrodynamics, or Hydraulics, deals
with the motions of liquids (waves, running water, etc.,
etc.), which are so complex compared with those of solids,
and the various machines the utilities of which are due to
the laws of moving liquids water-rams, water-wheels, etc.
The science of aeriform fluids, i. e., Pneumatics, adopts
the hypothesis that such fluids are composed of particles
which repel each other, separating as far as they can but
pressing equally in all directions. Such fluids are, there-
fore, both extremely elastic and compressible, but, like
solids and liquids, they have their due weight, inertia, mo-
mentum, etc., and, like liquids, they have their waves of
motion. The weight of the atmosphere is also treated of
in its practical applications through the barometer, siphon,
pump, etc.
We may place next the sciences which treat of what are
called the physical energies of matter, both in their non-
manifest or potential condition (capable of doing work), and
in their active or kinetic state (actually doing work). The
first of these sciences is that which treats of Heat, its powers
of expanding bodies, its phenomena of conduction, convec-
tion, radiation, absorption, reflection, and refraction, and its
relations to other physical energies. The science of Light
deals in turn with its wonderful velocity of motion, in waves
of various lengths, its aberration, reflection, refraction, inter-
ference, polarisation, etc., with the laws of Optics, and such
practical results in the microscope, telescope, spectroscope.
AN ENUMERA TION OF THE SCIENCES 2Q
and other instruments constructed in accordance with its
laws.
Acoustics is the science which concerns itself with sound,
its propagation, reflection, and diffusion through aerial waves
in all directions, with the laws of musical sounds or notes,
the nature of timbre, and various conditions presented by
different musical instruments.
The science of Electricity is one the amazing consequences
of which are familiar to everyone, so that we need but men-
tion its name together with that of Magnetism, so intimately
connected with it, and pass on to the science of Chemistry,
which has a distinct, though very indirect, connection with
the subject of this work.
All the sciences which treat of solids, fluids, and the
already mentioned physical energies, plainly exhibit what
are commonly termed the laws which govern nature, but
had better be called the definite tendencies which are innate
in the substances which compose the universe. Yet chem-
istry is, above all, distinguished by the clear and unanswer-
able manner in which it demonstrates that these tendencies
act in clearly defined directions, and build up by a selective
agency certain bodies and none others. Such is the case
whatever may be the reduction in number of what are at
present considered elementary substances, even if we should
ultimately become, convinced that the material world is
composed only of inconceivably numerous combinations of
particles of one elementary substance. Processes of analysis
and synthesis demonstrate the definite proportions in which
alone different (as yet seemingly distinct) substances can
unite and transform themselves into others not less well de-
fined ; while Crystallography reveals the extraordinarily
definite shapes into which alone definite substances can
crystallise, two such substances of different kinds and modes
of crystallisation sometimes growing so as to become in-
30 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
extricably mixed, each of them preserving its own individu-
ality and growing according to its own laws. This science
is closely allied to, or rather a part of, Mineralogy, a know-
ledge of which leads to, and is a necessary part of, the study
of the crust of the earth and the strata which compose it,
which are dealt with by Geology ; while Meteorology concerns
itself with the movements which take place in the earth's
atmosphere, and all forms of storms, and the varying direc-
tions of currents, and all that concerns storms of all kinds.
But these, with the flow of rivers and the action of tides,
the descent and upheaval of parts of the earth's crust with
earthquakes and volcanoes, also come within the purview
of Geography and Geology^ which latter is again largely in-
debted to the science of organic remains (Paleontology) for
its knowledge of the relations of the superimposed layers of
rocks which clothe our globe externally, revealed, as they
often are, by the kinds of fossils they contain.
But the phenomena of tides, of dawn and sunset, of the
year's seasons, with their shortening and lengthening days,
and, above all, of eclipses, force us to pursue the science of
the earth's celestial sisters, Astronomy, which, in turn, has
a distinct bearing on the possibilities of that inexplicable
energy with which the sciences which remain to be enumer-
ated are concerned namely, life.
Our reference to Palceontology has, indeed, already borne
some reference to that energy, since fossil remains are relics
of bodies which once had life.
The two great groups of living things, plants and animals,
were long supposed to be so widely separated that each was
treated of by a separate science only. Now, however, so
many deep resemblances are known to exist between them
that we have been forced to treat with them together as one
whole, in the science of living things, as Biology. Living
things being classed in the two great, so-called kingdoms of
AN ENUMERA TION OF THE SCIENCES 3 1
plants and animals, it is accordingly, as everyone knows,
divided into the sciences of Botany and Zoology. But every
animal and plant has to be considered according to its form
and structure on the one hand, and according to the activi-
ties of all its component parts. Those activities are treated
of by Physiology. Structure may be considered in its larger
division as existing in one or many species (Anatomy), or in
its microscopic division the structure of the component
" tissues " of the organism (Histology]. The structure of the
various kinds may be studied in reference to many or all
others, simply as to matters of fact, or with the aim of dis-
covering general laws of structure (Morphology). Yet another
science investigates the modes in which each species and
group of animals or plants is developed from its germs (Em-
bryology, Development, and Ontogeny], and the mode in
which it may be conjectured to have been derived from an-
tecedent species (Phylogeny). But living creatures have to
be considered with respect to the relations they severally
bear to space (Biological Geography], as also to past time,
which brings us once more to palaeontology.
A special science, which has been termed Hexicology, 1 is,
moreover, devoted to a study of the relations which exist
between organisms and their environment as regards the
nature of the localities they frequent, the temperatures and
amounts of light which suit them, and their relations to
other organisms as enemies, rivals, or accidental and invol-
untary benefactors.
Finally, as resuming and uniting all the sciences which
deal with the various bodies which compose the universe,
comes the science of the material universe considered as one
whole namely, the science of Cosmology.
After these sciences, acquaintance with which is necessary
for a complete knowledge of man, may follow that science
1 &<3. Habit, state, or condition.
32 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
which concerns him specially and directly namely, Anthro-
pology. This science studies the various physical conditions
needful for human existence, as the various subdivisions of
biology investigate the conditions necessary for the life of
other organisms also. Such are the studies of Human
Anatomy and of the lower activities, i. e., Human Physiology.
But since man has powers and characteristics which other
organisms do not possess, additional sciences are devoted to
the study of such additional facts. Thus Ethnology occupies
itself with the various races into which mankind is divided,
while Philology examines the languages they speak, and
History describes their successive appearances and disap-
pearances, their aggregations into tribes and nations, their
migrations, wars, and the series of events which have taken
place, their form of government, and the actions both of
their rulers and of the classes they ruled over. The study
of the various conditions which have been, or which now
exist, or which might be beneficial or hurtful to the race, is
known by the awkward term Sociology. The science of
Politics deals with the various kinds of civil aggregations in
which men do or may exist, with the probable or certain
benefits and defects of each. Man's conceptions of right
and wrong and the relations which thence arise between
each individual and other human beings standing to him in
a multitude of different relations, constitute the science of
Ethics, while ethical relations have been supposed to extend
to some various real or imagined superhuman intelligences,
so constituting Religion.
In connection with these latter sciences comes the study
of man's lower and higher mental powers, together with the
probably psychical powers of lower organisms, namely, the
study of Psychology, closely connected with which are Logic
and Philosophy or Metaphysics, about which enough has, we
venture to think, been already said in this chapter.
AN ENUMERA TION OF THE SCIENCES 33
Finally, and last of all, comes the special subject of this
work, namely, the study of the ultimate grounds of all
knowledge and of all science of whatsoever kind the science
of Epistemology.
CHAPTER III
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE
IN our enumeration of the principal sciences, as also
in our initial chapter, we have taken for granted that
the ordinary and spontaneous judgments of mankind as to
the external world are true and valid. But before proceed-
ing any further in our endeavour to apprehend the ground-
work of our science, we must carefully consider the question
as to its objects. We must endeavour to attain as true a
knowledge as possible concerning the nature of those things
which science occupies itself about.
The sciences of psychology and logic occupy themselves
with the human mind, its powers and processes, its mental
images, its feelings and emotions, its thoughts and infer-
ences. But mechanics, astronomy, geology, biology, etc.,
are commonly thought to busy themselves about things
which, though we apprehend them by mental acts, truly
exist independent of the mind, and form parts of a really
existing external world.
Now, of course, we can know nothing which we do not in
some way perceive or indirectly gain information about by
eye or ear or some sense organ, and everything we appre-
hend we apprehend as in various ways related to other
things, as well as to our own mind. Every object, there-
fore, of which science can take cognisance, is only known to
us through a variety of mental states which we term feelings,
34
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 35
reminiscences, inferences, or apprehensions, and amongst
the latter are apprehensions of such object's relations: both
its relations to other things and its relations within its own
being its external and internal relations. Every object,
therefore, looked at as regards our apprehension of it i. e. ,
merely subjectively may be said to consist of a plexus of
such mental states or " states of consciousness."
It is also true that not only can we know nothing about
any object except by means of some mental state of our own
being, but that were it possible to preserve such mental
states in their entirety while the object they referred to was
annihilated, our mind, and therefore our knowledge, might
remain unaffected thereby. It is notorious that under
abnormal conditions, things may seem to be perceived which
do not in fact exist, as also that there may be existences
which, to exceptional individuals, remain unperceived as
the odour of the rose to one congenitally devoid of all olfac-
tory power, its red hue to one who is colour-blind, and the
cry of the bat to very many persons.
May it not then be that no independent external world
really exists at all, and may not the " esse " of every seem-
ingly independent thing be " percipi" ? We know with
absolute certainty (with the certainty of reflex consciousness)
that we have ideas ; may they not be the only real exist-
ences ?
This, as the reader well knows, is Idealism. But idealism
has much to say for itself.
Such could not fail to be the case, seeing how many illus-
trious men of a very high order of intellect have professed
and do profess idealism, and it is far indeed from being
confined to pure metaphysicians. Many distinguished cul-
tivators and teachers of physical science declare themselves
to be idealists.
Its advocates ask :
36 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
" What possible ground can anyone have for not being an
Idealist? If we examine any object, as for example an apple,
what are really its various qualities ? Are they not rather ours
than the apple's ? We think that we look at it, but all we see is
a definitely shaped patch of colour, and that is a sensation of
our own. We take it up and hold it to the nose, when we per-
ceive its apple-odour. But that is only another of our sensations.
We may grasp it, feel it, and squeeze it, and these acts will occa-
sion a number of other sensations through our skin, muscles, and
the nerves supplying both, and these sensations are merely our
own feelings once more, though we refer them to an imagined
object and say that it is rounded and rather hard. We may tap
it on a table or drop it on the ground, when we shall hear sounds ;
in other words, we shall experience sensations of another order.
Finally, we may bite it, and so have other experiences of resist-
ance overcome and a pleasant flavour ; but the taste is certainly
not in the apple, but in us. It is but one mental state the more.
Do what we may we cannot by examining any so-called material
object arrive at anything more than modifications of our own
mental states different feelings. Other feelings we have, in-
deed, of a less vivid kind. These, however, are nothing but
faint revivals of sensations previously experienced, or of feelings
of the modes in which such previously experienced feelings have
stood one to another. Such ' faint revivals ' and * faint feelings
of modes of sensation ' we call ' ideas.' These vivid and faint
feelings are the only things which can be perceived by us, and
the whole of our knowledge consists of nothing else. Therefore,
as far as we know, nothing exists or can exist except as some-
thing felt and perceived. We cannot even conceive anything
otherwise existing, and therefore the very essence of * existence '
must consist in being perceived. Evidently an * idea ' or a * sen-
sation ' can be like nothing but an idea or a sensation. A colour,
taste, smell, or sound can be like nothing but a colour, taste,
smell, or sound. We can have no experience and no knowledge
of anything in any object, e.g., in an apple, which exists under-
neath (so to speak) its size, solidity, shape, colour, smell, and
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 37
taste, and which supports these qualities, but which itself can
never by any possibility be perceived. What Idealism denies,
therefore, is not the existence of that which we really perceive,
and which we habitually call ' external things.' It only denies
the existence of a something underlying what we call external
things, which * something ' is a mere phantom, a creation of the
fancy, and cannot be attained to by any of our senses, but is
equally out of the reach of them all. If ordinary people when
they speak of any object mean to refer to what they actually per-
ceive (and which we cannot any of us know otherwise than as a
mere plexus of our feelings), then they are Idealists all the time
without knowing it, as Idealism fully accepts and asserts the ex-
istence of such things so actually perceived. Idealism does not
contest the existence of any one thing which we can feel, per-
ceive, or even imagine of anything which we can apprehend
either by sensation or reflection. That things which we see with
our eyes and touch with our hands do really exist and are really
known to us, it does not in the least question. It only denies
that in these really known and existing things there is an under-
lying, unknowable and unimaginable * substance,' which in some
mysterious way supports the qualities which our senses perceive.
In denying the existence of this unknown and unknowable * sub-
stance,' it deprives men of nothing which they can even imagine,
and therefore of nothing they can really miss. If the word * sub-
stance ' be taken in the vulgar sense for a collection of all the
1 qualities ' quantity, shape, weight, colour, etc., etc., which
compose an object as we know it Idealism can never be accused
of taking it away, for, according to Idealism, it is that alone
which exists. But if 'substance ' be taken in a so-called 'philo-
sophic ' sense for something external to and independent of the
mind which supports all the ' qualities,' the existence of which
the mind recognises, then Idealism may be accused of taking it
away, if one may be said to take away a thing which never has
been or can be perceived to exist or be even imagined so to do.
Far from inculcating any disbelief in the senses or in what the
senses tell us, Idealism attaches the very highest value to the senses
38 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
and to their teaching. It no more doubts the existence of
what is seen, heard, or felt, than it doubts the existence of the
mind which sees, hears, or feels. Nothing, therefore, can be
more absurd than the criticisms of those persons who say that
Idealists, to be consistent, ought to run up against lamp-posts,
fall into ditches, and commit other similar absurdities. Idealism
is not only a thoroughly logical' system, but also one quite in
harmony with every-day life, its perceptions and its duties. It is
obvious that we can never get outside ourselves, or feel the feel-
ings of anyone else. We can only know our own sensations and
ideas. The existence of these sensations and ideas is sufficient
to explain our whole experience, and we are not idly to suppose
that other things exist when such 'other things' are altogether
superfluous for explaining any of the phenomena we are or can
become acquainted with. As we cannot know anything beyond
our own ideas, why should we affirm that there is anything be-
yond them ? It is impossible for us to even imagine anything
existing unperceived. We cannot imagine matter existing in the
absence of mind, for in the very act of imagining it we are com-
pelled to imagine someone perceiving it. It is, of course, easy
enough to imagine trees in a park or books in a library, and no-
body by to perceive them. But so to do is only to form in the
mind certain ideas which we call books and trees, and at the
same time to omit to form the idea of anyone perceiving them.
But the person so imagining them must himself be thinking of
them all the time. To show, or even to know, that anything was
existing independently of the mind, it would be necessary to
perceive it while it remained unperceived, or to think of it while
at the same time it remained unthought of, which would
manifestly be an absurd contradiction and a downright impossi-
bility. Idealism, therefore, does not contradict the assertions of
common-sense, or cause any practical inconvenience to him who
maintains it, seeing that it only denies what is but a figment of
perverse Metaphysicians a groundless and utterly irrational be-
lief in a necessarily unknown and unimaginable entity, about
which no one of our senses can tell us anything whatever."
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 39
Such is idealism as put forward and defended by its in-
genious and estimable author, Bishop Berkeley, whose piety
led him to explain our ideas and perceptions as the result of
the direct action of God upon our minds ; the whole visible,
audible, and tangible universe being the product of the
energy of the divine mind so acting upon us.
This explanation, could we accept it, would indeed en-
able us to know at once what is the groundwork of science.
But we by no means see how to reach our goal by so short
a journey. We need not even linger over this pious hy-
pothesis, since, so far as we know, no one now adheres to it.
Nor has idealism remained unmodified in other respects.
It began with the assertion that we can know nothing but
sensations and ideas the latter being generally interpreted
as plexuses of faintly revived sensations. Still it must al-
ways be manifest to anyone who would carefully examine
his own mental states, that his sensations were very rarely
noted or attended to as such, but that his mind was almost
always occupied, not about ' ' feelings, ' ' but about ' ' things.
Even Berkeley himself allowed that we might reasonably
speak of " things " and habitually employ our notions of
what we so spoke about as if they were what he said they
were not, namely, absolute external existences independent
of the mind. Things were for him, as they are for modern
idealists, stably associated groups of sensuous experiences,
and not by any means mere passing feelings of the moment.
Berkeley denied, and idealists deny, that we can have any
notion of an object save in terms of sense-perception, and
this is so far true that, as before pointed out, 1 we can have
no conception of anything, however abstract, save by the
said mental images or imaginations.
As our readers know, Berkeley's denial of the existence
of material substance was followed by Hume's denial of the
1 See ante, p. 9.
4O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
existence of any substance of mind, and his representation
of our own being as only made up of a succession of fleeting
feelings, their mode of succession being modified by custom.
According to Fichte, all that exists is the self, or subjective
Ego, the thoughts of which constitute the universe (the
system of Solipsism). According to others there is an ob-
jective Ego, of which our own existence is but a thought.
For modern transcendental idealists, a " thinking subject "
is the source of relations and of the world they constitute ;
for, as we before said, nothing exists unrelated.
It would be beside the purpose of this book to enter upon
a description of the different forms of idealism. What con-
cerns us is not their various affirmations, but the denial in
which they all agree the denial, namely, that we do, or
can, know and perceive an independent external world, con-
sisting of objects known to us as things in themselves, and
possessing a number of objective qualities which are revealed
to us through our subjective sensations..
Many of our readers may think idealism so unreasonable
as to feel unwilling to pursue any further the question of its
truth or possible validity. If, however, they are really in-
terested in the inquiry to which this volume is devoted, they
can hardly rest satisfied without coming to some decision as
to whether the groundwork of science has to do with
14 thoughts " only, or whether it has necessarily also to do
with " things."
It is easy to laugh at idealism, but unless it contained
some important truth, it would never have spread as it has
done, and captivated so many men exceptionally gifted.
Its propagation, moreover, is a remarkable and interesting
example of the vitality and influence of the English mind.
For the whole of the philosophy of Germany and Holland,
from Spinoza to Hartmann, has been a result of the mental
seed first sown in men's minds by Berkeley, who explicitly
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 41
produced what was implicitly contained in Locke. When
we call to mind that Berkeley begot his parricidal child,
Hume; that Hume set going the partially antagonistic, yet
largely similar, system of Kant ; that Kant begot Fichte,
and Fichte produced Schelling and Hegel, and these again,
by a revulsion, Schopenhauer and Hartmann it seems im-
possible to deny that English thought, from Locke through
Berkeley, has been far more influential than aught else in
the domain of philosophy, save the Greek mind as manifested
in Aristotle.
It is easy also to be unjust to idealism in the following
way : Because idealists affirm that perceptions consist of
plexuses of feelings of various kinds actual feelings and
grouped images of past feelings it may be represented that
they (idealists) occupy themselves exclusively about their
own feelings, and thus treat as the objects of perception what
are merely the means of perception. But idealists no more
especially observe their own sensations and feelings than
other people do ; they are, like other people, occupied about
" things perceived." The difference is that we, and most
men, affirm that through our feelings the mind becomes
aware that material objects consist of extended corporeal
substance, though of that substance in itself we have no
direct knowledge, but only apprehend it through its object-
ive qualities, the existence of which is made known to us
through our sensations.
Idealists, on the other hand, deny the reality of this uncog-
nisable substance, and deny also that we can know it to be
really and objectively extended, existing apart from the mind,
and they further deny the reality of anything apart from
mind, usually seeming to mean a human mind, though many,
when pressed by argument, will postulate an objective non-
human mind and often a divine mind, as the necessary and
indispensable cause of the existence of anything whatever.
42 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Now, as before said, we have no intention of entering
upon any question touching religion in this work, but merely
of treating of such questions as seem to us necessary for any
investigation of Epistemology.
We have, therefore, no intention of denying that the ex-
istence of a divine mind is a necessary condition for the
existence of anything else, and we have just as little intention
of affirming it. But we are perfectly convinced that objects
and substances can, because they do, exist apart from our
own mind and apart from any mind we can have any direct
knowledge of, or even imagine, as existing. Certainly we
have no direct perception, no intuition, of the existence of
a God ; nor do we believe that such an intuition exists in
the minds of other men, while we (our individual selves)
have a direct perception, an intuition, of the existence of a
real, extended, external world existing independently of our
own mind and of any mind, as above stated.
Anyhow, we are convinced that the existence of a God
can only be known through a process of inference based
upon things and actions perceived ; and it appears to us a
very illogical proceeding to affirm that objects cannot be
perceived save as related to a certain entity, which entity
itself cannot possibly be known to us except by the help of
objects not perceived as being so related.
Nevertheless (as we think), idealism enshrines an import-
ant truth, namely, the truth that our apprehension of the
world about us is much less perfect and complete than is
often supposed. Our perceptive powers are inadequate to
supply us with a complete knowledge of nature, which, as it
appears to us, may be very different from what it might
appear to any intelligences higher than our own.
It is certain^-quite apart from any system of idealism
that the material bodies about us (assuming that there are
such bodies) must possess powers and qualities which our
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 43
present senses are entirely unable to detect. Had we (as be-
fore suggested) an organ of sense fitted to enable us to ap-
prehend " magnetism," as our eyes enable us to apprehend
" light," how modified might not the aspect of the world
become ! We rejoice in the beauty of wild flowers and the
gay plumage of biijds, some of which delight us with their
song; yet, though we are not idealists, we do not hesitate
to affirm that their colours and their notes are not by any
means just that which they seem to us to be. The most
startling and impressive lesson we have had in the present
century is that taught us by the Rontgen rays like light,
yet so different from it with such unexpected powers of
penetration that wood is to them, as it were, translucent,
as the iron rod of a lightning-conductor is for electricity a
tube down which it tumbles.
We may seem to have thus delivered ourselves up to the
idealists with our hands bound ; yet such is by no means the
case. We, however, most willingly acknowledge the merits
and the intellectual gifts of its supporters. But those sup-
porters are nevertheless relatively very few in number, in
spite of the great temptations and the two special attractions
which idealism holds out to inquirers about, and students
of, philosophy.
Its first attraction for them consists in the fact that the
system is exceedingly easy of comprehension. No difficult
and sustained acts of mental introspection are needed to
understand it. All that is required is to see clearly the dif-
ference between " things " and their " qualities," to recog-
nise that no " things " can become known to us except
through their " qualities," and to recollect that all the ex-
perience we have of these consists in our own sensations,
imaginations, and perceptions.
The second attraction which idealism presents is due to
the fact that it seems to carry the novice in philosophy into
44 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
a region very much above that of ordinary men. For him
a wonderful change has taken place. What common persons
regard as the most stubborn and solid realities he is enabled
to transform into an airy pageant consisting of nothing more
substantial than a ceaseless series of feelings and ideas; yet
all the time his elevated position causes him no practical in-
convenience, because it is the boast of his philosophy that
it in no way contradicts the assertions of common-sense, but
only denies the existence of what no one ever did or ever
can perceive, namely, " material substance."
He may also assert though, as we shall shortly see, in
this he is mistaken that idealism is not out of harmony
with " science " any more than it is irreconcilable with
" common-sense " ; and he can certainly appeal (as before
said) to distinguished men of science who affirm that they
are idealists.
Some of our readers, influenced by such representations,
may be inclined to say to us: " Why, if these so-called
' facts ' bodies and their activities can be conveniently
dealt with as so many ' bundles of feelings,' and if we may
speak of such ' bundles of stably associated feelings ' as
' objects ' and ' things,' why should we not be content so to
call them ? Why should we not leave all disputes about the
truths of idealism on one side, concern ourselves only with
what both parties thus agree to term ' things ' and ' objects,'
and to treat them as if they were really independent entities
quite external to the mind ? "
Certainly we do not for one moment seek or wish to deny
that idealists may be very good scientific men, and do excel-
lent scientific work ; nor, for the purposes of physical science,
are the conceptions of such scientific idealists unserviceable
for the scientific ends to which they are directed, though (as
will be shortly urged) their scientific conceptions are not
really idealistic, but are like those of ordinary persons.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 45
Nevertheless, as we have before observed, for our present
purpose (namely, the exploration of the groundwork of
science) it is necessary to determine whether the foundation
of science is entirely mental or partly mental and partly
material ; and there is a yet graver consideration which for-
bids us to rest contented with a philosophical concordat, and
compels us to do our best to arrive at a satisfying solution as
to the system of idealism.
This yet graver consideration refers to the nature of our
intellectual faculties. No man can get behind human
reason, and no rational man will make any attempt so to
do. A belief in a real, external, and independent world of
things in themselves appears to most men to be an abso-
lutely certain and self-evident truth. But if idealism is true,
then " absolutely certain self-evidence " can be no sufficient
guarantee of the truth of that for which it vouches. We
should thus be reduced to a state of uncertainty and sceptic-
ism, casting a shade of doubt over every proposition what-
ever. But in such a state of mind it would indeed be a
hopeless task to seek to investigate the groundwork of
science. The question as to idealism must therefore be
examined to the extent of our ability as a necessary pre-
liminary for any possible satisfactory conclusion with respect
to Epistemology.
We have done our best to present the case of the idealists
fairly. What is now to be urged on the other side ?
In the first place, as we said before, most men are not
idealists. Indeed, the professed adherents of that system
constitute but a very small portion of the most educated
part of mankind. Secondly, even idealists themselves can-
not help entertaining and acting on the notions common to
other men. It is not merely that they make use of ordinary
phraseology about " perception " and " things perceived,"
but they habitually as we shall shortly see give to the
46 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
terms they use the ordinary signification, and reserve their
idealistic interpretation for the time they are occupied with
philosophising. The most distinguishing character of the
notion all men have of the reality of an extended, external,
independent world, is the absolute inevitableness of that
notion, which holds sway over idealists as well as others.
It has been said that the inevitable character of this notion
is due to " natural selection." Men who did not promptly
make their actions accord with it, would, it is urged, be very
quickly eliminated, and only those most ready to act as if
an independent external world existed would survive. Thus
it is that this notion has become ingrained in survivors.
But, as we shall see later on, 1 our firmest, clearest, most
certain and highest perceptions cannot have been due to
" natural selection." If, therefore, there is some efficient
cause which has, independently of such selection, produced
our highest and most certain perceptions, applicable to all
ages and every part of the universe, a fortiori it could have
also independently produced the very minor effect of en-
abling us to become aware of the present state of the world
about us. We shall here contend that such awareness is of
an intuitive character, and that we possess a direct intuition
of " the extended " i. e., of the various extended bodies
which make up the material world. Nevertheless, all intui-
tions do not stand on the same level, and, as we have just
implied, our intuition about " extension " does not stand
on the highest level but on one below that upon which
rest those ultimate first principles of knowledge with which
Epistemology directly deals, and which will be carefully con-
sidered in our last two chapters. Had it this highest degree
of certainty, it would be impossible for us even to entertain
about it that sort of fictitious doubt which idealists possess,
nor could any dispute take place as to whether the inevitable
1 Chapter ix.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 47
character of our notion about the external world is either an
inference or a delusion.
But before proceeding to argue in favour of the reality as
well as the inevitableness of our conviction as to an external
world, it may be well to state, as clearly as we can, what
that reality according to us is. It may be expressed as
follows :
" All the different bodies and substances of the universe
about us really exist independent of the mind, and with
equal reality, whether they be perceived or not. Through
our senses our intellect becomes directly aware of their
existence, as ' things of themselves,' and of some of their
objective qualities. Those qualities, however, are unlike
the sensations external bodies excite in us ; though our per-
ceptions, aroused by our sensations, do correspond to such
objective qualities. External material bodies exist inde-
pendently of us, and have a substantial reality in addition
to that of the qualities we perceive, and our perception of
them also does not in any way essentially alter them."
That this position is the true one is, we think, shown (i)
by the natural spontaneous judgment of mankind ; (2) by
the careful examination of the dicta of our own mind, and
(3) by what we learn through science.
The first of these three arguments meets with no con-
sideration on the part of idealists, on the ground that to the
multitude it has never been given to understand what ideal-
ism is. But in the eyes of persons who are not idealists
that argument may well, nevertheless, have some value,
since it is plain that the spontaneous judgment of mankind
accords with what even animals practically learn through
their senses. A wide river is an objective obstacle to the
progress of a man's dog, as well as to that of the dog's
owner; and a rotten fruit on the ground is plainly not only
an external reality to the human observer of it, but also to
48 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
the various insects which gather on its surface. Certainly
those who hold that the inevitable nature of our sentiments
about a really independent external world has been produced
by the action of " natural selection," must allow the validity
of our impressions about it, since they suppose it was the
action of that very world which eliminated those persons
whose impressions did not correspond with sufficient ac-
curacy to fatal objective realities.
But, in the second place, let the inquirer firmly fix his
mental gaze upon his own personal experience, as, for ex-
ample, when playing a game of billiards. Is it possible for
him to believe, as he cannons and " goes in off the red,"
that the balls he perceives are but groups of vivid and faint
feelings, and not real, extended, independently existing
bodies which really move, and, by striking, impel each other
in different directions as ordinary people think they do ?
Who that hears the pleasant voices of his children as they
are playing in the garden, or even when silence succeeds to
their audible merriment, can doubt their independent object-
ivity entirely apart from his own feelings ? Should shrill
cries break that silence, and the father, rushing out, find
that one of his children has met with a serious mischance,
not only his feelings and his actions, but his inmost thoughts,
however determined an idealist he may be, will be in full
accord with those of any other man similarly circumstanced.
We are persuaded the more the reader examines into the
dictates of his own mind during his actual experiences from
day to day, the more profoundly he will be impressed by a
conviction that real external bodies things in themselves
exist and act independently of his feelings, wishes, thoughts,
or perceptions, and that he has full and valid ground to be
absolutely certain about it. This will be brought home to
anyone with special vividness while undergoing a surgical
operation without the use of anaesthetics.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 49
But it is physical science which specially vouches for the
reality of an external independent world.
The advocates of idealism generally content themselves
with explaining, according to their system, some of our
simple perceptions an apple, a landscape, the furniture of
a room, trees in a park, books in a library, etc. Such things
may plausibly be represented as made up of bundles of
feelings, because bundles of feelings are the means by which
we perceive them, and because we have but to gaze on and
contemplate a quiet scene devoid of conspicuous interactions
between its parts. But what we learn through science is
something very different: it is a systematic investigation as
to what are the causes of different phenomena and their
various modes of action on one another. It has, therefore,
to do not only with our perceptions themselves, but also
with the causes of our perceptions.
Although, as before said, we do not question the eminence
or the services of men of science who are idealists, neverthe-
less we believe idealism to be fundamentally out of harmony
with physical science. We strongly suspect that the intel-
lectual nature of idealistic physicists is too much for them ;
and that, though they may be ever ready to represent the
objects of their study and experience as so many complex
groups of feelings, they really regard them (in common with
other people) as independent objects with special qualities
and powers. We think thus because, though (as we have
just observed) it is easy enough to translate mere objects
perceived into groups of feelings and relations between
them, it is much more difficult to investigate and describe
the reciprocal actions of objects (as, e. g., of the sun and
moon on the tidal wave) as only relations between ideas
and not as activities of external, absolutely independent ex-
tended things which really affect each other.
There can be no question about the fact that observations
5<D THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
and experiments are accepted by scientific men as real
objective facts and occurrences, and the whole of physical
science, understood as men of science themselves understand
it, is based upon that way of regarding them. It would be
ridiculous to pretend that when astronomers, chemists, and
anatomists are tracing the motions of the heavenly bodies,
or analysing minerals, or ascertaining the course followed by
a nerve or an artery, they remain all the time convinced that
they are really investigating the relations borne by groups
of past and present feelings to other such groups, and
nothing more!
It is very certain that, but for their conviction they were
dealing with independent realities and discovering really ob-
jective truths, the physical sciences would never have at-
tained their present degree of development. If idealism
were true, then the advance of science must simply have
been due to a profound mistake, and, the mistake having
been once found out, can we believe that scientific advance
would continue, or could even maintain itself where it is ?
The attempt has been made more than once, and with
admirable perseverance, to describe truths of physical
science in terms of feeling and no more; and the attempt
has always ended (as it must always end) in complete failure.
A few concrete examples may bring home to the reader
the intenseness and inevitability with which the notion of
external things in themselves, really existing independently
of the mind, is forced home upon the intelligence of the
man of science by his own pursuits.
Leverrier, by studying the movements of the planet
Uranus, came to the conclusion that they were influenced
by some external body in such a way as to lead him to be-
lieve that Uranus was not, as up to that time supposed, the
planet of the solar system which was most distant from the
sun, but that there must be another revolving round that
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 51
luminary at a yet greater distance. After further study he
predicted the place in the heavens where that yet more dis-
tant orb would be found. The prediction was put to the
test, with the result that the planet now known as Neptune
was there found. In this instance science did not merely
predict that a new body (for idealism " a new group of feel-
ings ") would be found if looked for, but it affirmed " how "
and " why " it would be so found. It was a statement as
to causation.
Another memorable prediction, in another science, was
made by Cuvier. The fossil skeleton of a small beast having
been found in the quarries of Montmartre, the great French
naturalist, seeing a peculiar conformation in its jaw, foretold
that when the lower part of the trunk was laid bare, two
peculiar bones present in but few beasts would there be
found. Friends assembled to see the prediction verified,
and it was verified.
The late Sir Richard Owen ventured to affirm that a huge
extinct animal of South America (which had been furnished
with very powerful limbs and tail) had been in the habit of
obtaining its nourishment by uprooting trees and then feed-
ing on their leaves. It was objected to this hypothesis that
had animals of that kind really been in the habit of so pro-
curing their nourishment they would now and again have
had their heads broken by falling trees. Owen thereupon
re-examined the head of the beast which had been the sub-
ject of his investigations and conjectures, and found that its
head had been broken. But he also found that the skull of
the animal was so constructed as to enable it to. endure such
fracture with very little inconvenience.
How can these facts be adequately expressed in terms of
idealism ? Is it possible to regard the matters thus per-
ceived as but groups of feelings or ideas in any mind,
human or non-human ? If we do not recognise the relation
52 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
of an actually " falling tree " as a cause of an independently
existing " fractured skull," the whole point and meaning of
the venerable naturalist's sagacious inference would be lost.
Similarly with respect to the planets Uranus and Nep-
tune. The philosophy of idealism puts before us nothing
but groups of feelings or ideas in the idealistic sense of
the word which co-exist and succeed arbitrarily without
any rational order or any evident reason why they should so
co-exist or succeed. The idealist cannot say why the group
of feelings he calls " the movements of Uranus " should be
related to another set of feelings, distinguished as " the in-
fluence of an external body," or why the feelings known as
" looking through a telescope " should be succeeded by
those called " seeing the planet Neptune."
And modern science teaches us not only that real, ex-
tended, material bodies interact upon each other apart from
anybody perceiving them, but also that they so interacted
for untold ages before any human mind existed. It tells us
that the world, at first devoid of life, became fitted for it,
and ultimately fit for mind. The view which science opens
to us concerning the fact may be briefly expressed thus:
After an unknown but vast period of time, what we regard
as the oldest rocks yet extant were deposited, and after
multitudes of lower forms of life had had their day and dis-
appeared, huge reptiles came upon the scene, swam in the
ocean, sported in lakes and rivers, browsed in ferny forests,
and flitted through the air, all to disappear before the white
chalk of our Downs was finally deposited. Then beasts and
birds, strangely unlike those which yet live, came into being
and passed away unseen by any human eye. Genus suc-
ceeded to genus and species to species. Gigantic long-armed
apes bounded through the forests of Southern France, and
many kinds of monkeys chattered in the woods of what is
now Greece. At last the human form walked for the first
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 53
time on the earth's surface, and then came races destined
to dwell for centuries in caves, rudely chipping flints for
weapons, but by degrees exhibiting signs of an innate love
for art. Race succeeded race, till at last came those whose
annals constitute the dawn of history and from whom we
proceed. Such is the teaching of science. Such is that
process of evolution in our world, which it declares to be
certain and indisputable.
But how is it possible to describe such relations and con-
ditions in the language of idealism ?
If idealism were true, evolution would indeed be nothing
but a dream, nor could any branch of physical science be
considered more substantial.
If nothing exists but feelings and " ideas," and some un-
perceived cause theistic, pantheistic, or atheistic which
produces them, then everything must depend upon the
action of that agent, and all secondary causes and interac-
tions, such as those by which one body is supposed to act
on another, can be nothing but deceitful illusory appear-
ances.
But since physical science largely consists in a search after
secondary causes and the laws of the interaction of bodies
one on another, a system which can have nothing to say to
either must be quite useless to such science.
It is indeed the fact that, while following their special
scientific pursuits, idealists must, temporarily, if tacitly, ab-
jure their idealism. As men of science it is impossible for
them to be idealists, and this some of them confess, candidly
avowing that it would be absurd to try to describe scientific
processes and state scientific conclusions in idealist phrase-
ology, while all that science needs is to describe co-existences
and successions of appearances and in no way to explain
them. But surely such avowals amount to nothing less than
a condemnation of the system which makes them necessary.
54 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Physical science requires us to admit the absolute reality
of extended bodies which can move or be moved, and which
have real objective relations of number and position and
really act and react on one another. Newton's discovery is
much more than a mere description of appearances, and of
the theory of evolution the same may certainly be affirmed.
Any system of philosophy, therefore, which denies the ob-
jective reality of primary qualities, cannot serve as a ground-
work of science. Either physical science has no foundation
at all or its groundwork is other than idealistic.
Now, according to received idealism the world is consti-
tuted by " relations," the source of which is a " mind " or
" thinking subject."
Certainly no object can exist without relations. These
are real objective relations of which the mind is not the
" source " but the " observer." The immense majority of
these objective relations exist in independent objectivity,
and would continue so to exist were every mind imaginable
by us annihilated. On the other hand, it is surely too
absurd to regard the world as made up of relations without
objects which are related.
The mind in perceiving these " objective relations " i. e.,
the circumstances in which different things stand to each
other cannot, of course, do so without having correspond-
ing subjective mental perceptions, which may be termed
" subjective relations " since they make known to us the
corresponding "objective" ones. But the latter exist
quite independent of any imaginable mind. Our perceiving
or not perceiving them is a mere accident of such relations,
and in no way affects them save as regards their being or
not being perceived.
A simple illustration or two will, we think, make this
clear. Thus, e. g. , a definite relation exists between a piece
of rock and a volcano in eruption which ejected it, but this
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 55
relation is substantially similar between a rock and volcano
perceived and a rock and volcano of the Antarctic Continent
which never have been perceived, or between a rock and a
volcano on the averted surface of the moon, if such things
there exist. Multitudes of relations probably exist between
various heavenly bodies, which relations existed long before
the formation of our solar system.
But idealists may be asked the following question : If all
the truth concerning the universe consists not in the existence
of extended things, but in relations essentially " mental"
how comes it that the outcome has been the production of
what idealists must regard as a universal delusion ? For
the practically universal belief of mankind that external, in-
dependent, extended bodies really exist on all sides of us
must, in their eyes, be just such a delusion. A philosophy
with such a result hardly commends itself to the inquirer
after the ultimate tests and grounds of truth.
We therefore do not hesitate to affirm that the existence
of the " extended " that is, of real, independent, external,
and extended bodies is an intuition. It is a revelation
concerning the world about us directly apprehended by our
intellect through the medium of our sense-perceptions. It
is a fact certainly true, and shown so to be by its own evi-
dence. ' Why " extended things exist and " how " they
exist we know not, and may never be able to know ; but
that they do exist is a truth intuitively perceived, and this it
is which gives to our perception of the external world that
character of " inevitableness " which has been recognised as
pertaining to it. The possession of this direct intellectual
apprehension, together with the need for us of the due action
of our organs of sense to call it forth, well explains both
our power of directly perceiving what idealists are unable to
understand our perceiving, and also the obscurity and con-
fusion into which idealists themselves have fallen.
56 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
It is no doubt a wonderful thing that such apparently im-
perfect means as our organs of sense and general bodily
organisation supply, should enable us to know so much
concerning the world about us the extension of bodies and
their relations as to size, shape, solidity, motion, and num-
ber, yet it is not more wonderful, essentially, than is the
rest of our knowledge and, in fact, the whole of our mental
powers. How we get any knowledge at all, how we see
objects, how we feel anything is most mysterious, and all
our knowledge, deeply considered, is very wonderful. On
the occurrence of certain changes in our bodies, induced by
surrounding agencies, we experience ' 4 sensations. ' ' Through
such sensations (actual and remembered) sense-perceptions
are aroused, and by the aid of mental abstraction ideas are
called forth, and we perceive what we know to be " external
objects." Through our own activities and by things done
to us we recognise our existence, our feelings, and our ac-
tions. Nothing can be more wonderful than our faculty of
memory, which gives us absolutely certain knowledge of a
continuously existing being our own self the continuous-
ness of which it is impossible for our senses to perceive, for
they can perceive nothing but what is present to them.
There is really no more difficulty in our perception of the
external world about us than in our experiencing a sensation
of azure or of sweetness. The fact is so, and we perceive it
to be so ; and the act by which we do this is no more really
marvellous in one case than in the other ; or rather every act
of knowledge is alike marvellous. We know things, and
we know that we know them. How we know them is a
mystery indeed, but one about which it is idle to speculate,
as it is absolutely insoluble. The oft-repeated question
" How is knowledge possible ? " is therefore one of the most
idle and futile questions which can be asked.
It is an absurd question, because it leads to a regressus ad
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 57
infinitum. To every possible reply to it, giving some ex-
planation of its possibility, it may be rejoined " but how is
our knowledge of that explanation possible ?" and so on
forever. We cannot (once more) get behind the intellect,
and therefore no ultimate explanation of our intellectual
power is possible. No intellectual perception can be more
than self-evidently true. We are compelled to trust our
intellect, as we are compelled to trust that we are not mad;
and that we are not altogether mad or deluded is shown us
by the fact of our seeing quite clearly that if we were de-
luded our judgments could not be trustworthy.
The mystery of knowledge runs parallel, as we have just
said, to the mystery of sensation. We feel things savoury
or odorous or brilliant or melodious, as the case may be;
and, with the aid of the scalpel and the microscope, we may
investigate the material conditions of such sensations. But
how such conditions can give rise to the feelings themselves
is a mystery which defies our utmost efforts to penetrate.
Yet, because we cannot discover this, we never doubt our
sensations or the fact that we feel them ; and we have as
little reason to doubt our intellectual intuitions or the facts
we know as made evident to our intellect through our
feelings.
By our recognition of this direct intellectual intuition of
the existence and, in part, the nature of things around
us, science and its progress can be both understood and ad-
vanced without the denial of one single fact for which ideal-
ism vouches. Its affirmations are justified while its negations
can by such recognition be shown to be unreasonable though
explicable, and almost necessary upon that conception of
the nature of ideas which idealism adopts, and the insecure
basis upon which it builds.
By its affirmations, our feelings are correctly described,
but its great fault is its non-appreciation of the profound
58 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
difference which exists between them and our ideas, and its
consequent practical negation of the higher source of all our
knowledge. That the affirmations of idealism are justified
is unquestionable. Idealists rightly affirm that, as we have
before pointed out, 1 we can know nothing without the aid
of our sensations, that a plexus of our own feelings accom-
panies every one of our perceptions, and that not even our
most abstract ideas are destitute of such accompaniments.
In our first chapter we endeavoured at some length to make
clear the profound distinction which exists between " feel-
ings," however complexly associated together, and intel-
lectual conceptions, and a similar distinction exists between
(i) the associated plexuses of feelings, vivid and faint, which
constitute a "sense-perception" of an object an act
which cannot truly be called intellectual, but seems to be
merely a form of sensitivity and ( : 2) the non-sensuous
activity, which is an intellectual perception a an act of
" consciousness."
The latter is not the mere apprehension of an object as an
individual " thing," 3 but as a " thing of a certain kind,"
and the recognition that it is such is the result of our power
of abstraction. Idealists are too apt to confound " sensuous
universals " with true ones. A sensuous universal is a mere
blurred or defective mental image of an object which has
been produced by the successive experience of a variety of
individual objects of the same kind. Thus the successive
sensuous impressions produced by a number of horses,
different in size, colour, and somewhat in shape, have, of
course, their effect upon the imagination, and reminiscences
of these concur with freshly received impressions to aid us in
eliciting the perception and idea of a horse by a direct intel-
lectual act. But that the intellectual perception and idea
of a " horse " is not a mere amalgam of modified imagina-
1 See ante, p. 9. 8 See ante, p. 9. 3 See ante, p. 6.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 59
tions, or a mere generalised mental image, is plain from the
fact that the imaginations which have helped to call it forth,
may persist in the mind side by side with it, which they
evidently could never do if the idea was made up of such
imaginations.
A true universal the intellectual conception supported
by the sensuous universal is a single idea called forth by
a natural activity of the mind, and is by no means a mere
collection or residuum of blurred sensuous impressions. Our
power of abstraction instantaneously analyses the thing
perceived into its ideal qualities, and also synthesises them
as belonging to a really existing concrete object. It appre-
hends both the object's concrete individuality (that it is
" this thing here ") and also the kind to which it pertains
(that it is a member of a group, which, as a group, exists
only in the mind).
How different is the intellectual apprehension from the
sensuous affection is clear from the fact that changes in
such sensuous affections may only render the intellectual
apprehension a more complete and perfect unity. Thus, if a
solid cube be suspended by a string and then turned round
before us, we can never see all its surfaces at once, and its
square faces, as we see them in perspective, do not look
square but lozenge-shaped. Nevertheless, these incomplete,
defective signs not only serve to give us an accurate per-
ception of the cube, but its revolution, though it changes
our sensuous impressions, only makes our intellectual con-
ception more complete and stable while the former changes,
the latter remains the same throughout.
Thus every material object whereof our senses can take
cognisance, has various qualities its size, shape, solidity,
colour, etc. and acts upon our senses accordingly.
Its qualities affect us in response to our activities of eye,
ear, hand, etc. Our two eyes form two slightly discordant
60 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
images of it, and our hands and arms may give us numbers
of synchronous and successive feelings respecting it. Sim-
ultaneously with these sensuous impressions, we have a per-
ception of the object and its qualities. But that perception
is by no means correspondingly multiform. The per-
ception is one intellectual cognition resulting from a multi-
tude of sensations and reminiscences. Our attention may,
of course, be directed to any one of its qualities, but if so,
what we then directly perceive is no longer the thing itself
but the quality in question.
As it is with the revolving cube, so also changes produced
by our own movements may make our intellectual cognition
of what surrounds us more unchanging. When walking in
Notre Dame, as we progress, the pillars of the double row
of columns on either side of its nave successively change
their relative positions in our eyes. Yet they remain in
reality unchanging, and by the experiences thus received
we gain a clearer intellectual apprehension of their true
relative positions than we could do by remaining fixed to
one spot.
Some opponents affirm that what is really different be-
tween a mere sense-perception and an intellectual perception
of an object, is that to the latter a word is applied, and that
apart from this word there would be no difference. Such a
view is, of course, the teaching of the oft-refuted system
known as " Nominalism."
That the essence of intellectual perception and conception
does not lie in the word, is shown by the fact that the same
idea may be made known by different words, different modes
of speech, and even by gesture language. 1 But it is plain that
if the intellect had not universal ideas, then general terms,
such as ' ' dog, " " horse, ' ' etc. , would be meaningless. It may
also be asked how general terms ever came to be, if the mind
1 See below, Chapter vii.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 6 1
knew nothing but individual things ? Again, even nominal-
ists must profess to understand the meanings of certain
words; but since almost all words are universals, it is plain
that they could not understand them unless they really
possessed universal ideas. If we can perceive the general
nature of certain words, why not of other things also ? But
nominalists agree with idealists in one fundamental error.
They confuse the objects of cognition with the means of
cognition, not, as before said, because they pay any excep-
tional attention to their feelings, but because they regard
what are really, for both idealists and non-idealists, " ob-
jects perceived ' ' as being mere plexuses of feelings, plexuses,
therefore, of what are in truth but " means of perception."
Objects are known directly by means of our mental affec-
tions. It is true that modern idealists describe our experi-
ence as made up of " perceptions" ; but by" perceptions "
they mean congeries of vivid and faint feelings, and not that
direct intellectual cognition which exists over and above,
and in addition to, " feelings " of whatsoever kind they may
be. Thus our perception of material, external, independent
objects they declare to be not a direct intuition but an
inference.
The term " inference " means, as we all know, the percep-
tion by our mind of the fact that one truth is implicitly
contained in other truths antecedently known. Now it is
quite true that an inference, though if it exists it must be
conscious, may excite our attention but very slightly and be
rapidly forgotten. Can our perceptions of objects, then,
be due to such hasty, little adverted-to, and speedily forgot-
ten inferences ? Now inferences, even of that kind, can
be recognised by reflection to have occurred if they have
done so. Thus, if we have on a dark evening mistaken a
stranger for a friend, we can recognise afterwards the cir-
cumstances which occasioned our mistake, and made us
62 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
hastily conclude from insufficient evidence that the fact was
otherwise than in truth it was. But it is impossible to
recognise the presence of any act of inference in our ordinary
perceptions of objects, however much we may look back and
analyse such perceptions. When, for example, after having
perceived an apple, we look back on our various sensations
thus derived, we do not find that they have constituted the
premises of any conclusion, but, on the contrary, we see
that they have directly revealed the apple they have made
it present to our intellect. It is thus with the immense
majority of our perceptions. Why, then, should we deem
them to be inferences, when they exhibit to us no signs of
having been produced by an inferential process ? Is it one
bit more wonderful or mysterious that we should perceive
"objects" than that we should perceive " inferences "?
An " inference " a perception that one thing must be true
because its truth is implicitly contained in other things is
surely a much more complex and involved mental process
than is the direct perception of an object. For this reason,
then, if for no other, we should not conclude that we have
made use of a process of " inference " when nothing in our
minds assures us that we have really done so.
What probably has caused some persons to mistake " per-
ception " for " inference " is the fact that every perception
is the result of a number of psychical processes sensations
and imaginations associated in complex groups and a variety
of unconscious ' affections also. This process of complex
sensuous association it is which seems to have been denoted
under the self-contradictory term, " unconscious inference."
Yet if our perceptions of objects were " inferences," then,
since no inference can exist without data, the data of such
perceptions must be the feelings which objects occasion in
us. But if that were the case, then such feelings must be
1 As to this, see below, Chapter vi.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 63
primarily observed, or else no consequence could be deduced
from them. In that case it would be quite true to charge
idealists with mistaking the means for the objects of percep-
tion, and in spite of all their denials, we should have to
affirm that they do direct their attention upon their sensa-
tions and feelings in an exceptional and most misleading
manner.
But that " perception " is not " inference " is very plainly
shown by the fact that we can and do obtain a reflective
assurance of the truth of our perceptions when we clearly
do not employ inference to obtain it.
No one can deny that there is a plain distinction between
" attention " and " inference," and we may gain an in-
creased certainty for our perceptions by acts of attention
alone. The reader will, we think, readily admit that he
sometimes perceives an object consciously, but without
paying particular attention to it; and that when his atten-
tion to it is by some circumstance aroused, he has then a
far clearer consciousness of it and of its nature than before.
He can, indeed, thus " make sure " by merely, as it were,
tightening his sensuous grasp of the object and carefully
focussing his sense-perceptions regarding it.
Thus perception is no process of inference from known
signs to a before unknown notion of an object, but is a spon-
taneous interpretation of signs (which themselves are by no
means expressly adverted to) by a natural power the mind
possesses, and which is rapidly perfected by exercise. By
it we gain an immediate assurance (and, by attention, can
gain an augmented assurance) that a perception is certain
and needs no proof.
But there remains one supremely important point to con-
sider. If our perceptions were " inferences," our intellect
would necessarily be thereby altogether stultified. For no
" inference " can be certain which does not repose on per-
64 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
ceptions previously acquired and known to be true. If,
therefore, every perception .were an inference, we should get
a rcgressus ad infinitum, and be incapable of ever acquiring
a perception of any truth whatever. Anterior to all possible
truth, we must know truths which are not inferences, which
require no proofs but are evident in themselves.
The fact that we have a direct and immediate knowledge
of objects which are made present to the mind through our
sensations, is a fact fatal to idealism. It alike justifies the
spontaneous and reflective declarations of our own minds,
when once we have clearly understood the great difference
which exists between (i) intellectual conceptions and per-
ceptions, and (2) their merely sensuous accompaniments.
The conviction, then, that science is really concerned not
alone with thoughts but also with external, independent,
and extended realities, is so far justified.
It only now remains forus to consider the various objec-
tions which have been brought against the validity of this
conviction.
The stock objection is based on the supposed constant
and inevitable delusion we are led into by our sensations of
colour, sound, smell, and taste the secondary qualities of
bodies as contrasted with their primary qualities of exten-
sion, size, shape, number, motion, etc. It is then further
argued that if we are entirely deceived as regards the second-
ary qualities, the primary qualities can be in no better case,
each of them being, to our experience, but a plexus of our
own feelings, vivid and faint.
And we freely concede that in this idealists are so far right
that if we could not directly know things in themselves, but
only the impressions they make on us, then the said primary
qualities might be no more than combinations of certain of
those groups of muscular feelings and feelings of effort and
resistance which have been made use of by us in acquiring
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 65
such ideas. Nevertheless, there is a great difference in our
notions of these two sets (primary and secondary) of quali-
ties. For, in the first place, colours and sounds are each
perceived by one sense only ; but in examining the solidity,
extension, figure, number, and motion of any object we
perceive, we can bring various modes of feeling to confirm
the evidence of vision. We find also that doubt as to
primary qualities carries with it very different results from
a disbelief in the objective validity of our impressions as to
secondary ones. If we became convinced that nothing in
the remotest degree like the secondary qualities we know
of existed in the perceived objects themselves, the world
would lose very much of its charm for us. Flowers would
have lost their tints as well as their fragrance, and the
melpdy of birds, no less than their brilliance of plumage,
would have disappeared ; but otherwise things would remain
substantially as they were. But with the disappearance of
primary qualities the solid earth itself would vanish, and we
should even lose the companionship of that most faithful
ally our own body ! If we hold three marbles in our hand
and we are told they are not truly of the tint we suppose, or
that they really have an odour of garlic which escapes our
notice, we are not greatly disturbed thereby. If, however,
it were asserted to us that they were not three and not solid
objects at all, that we could not touch distinct parts of the
surface of any one of them, or that they were not spherical
in shape, or that when we dropped them from one hand to
the other there was no real motion in them apart from our
feelings of touch, effort, and movement, then, if we were
not idealists, we should consider the assertor, if serious, to
be irrational, or that he regarded our own rationality as
dubious.
The colour of any object, as we all know, is said to be
nothing but a result of the undulation of certain waves of
66 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
light reflected from its surface to us, and we are asked how
there can possibly be any real resemblance between that
condition of any object, which causes it to reflect such
waves, and our sensations of colour ? How also, it is further
asked, can there be any possible likeness between the real
condition of a body thrown into rapid vibration and the
sounds those rapid vibrations occasion in us ? As well, they
exclaim, might a wound be like the knife which inflicted it
thus tacitly asserting the necessary adequacy of a cause
for its effect !
Now, of course, as we have before said, no subjective feel-
ing can be like an objective quality belonging to an external
object. The simplest rustic, with his senses about him,
knows as much philosophy as that. But he also knows that
there are in external things real qualities which give rise to
the feelings he experiences. This can be easily ascertained
(as we have ascertained it) by questioning such rustics in
language they can understand. The conviction they really
entertain is the spontaneous and universal conviction of
mankind, from a Sussex cowherd to the greatest philosopher
of Greece ; and a spontaneous and universal human convic-
tion should be accepted and acquiesced in unless there are
valid reasons against our so doing.
We must here revert to a point before noticed. In our
perception of any object it is made present to our mind by
feelings to which we do not advert. Its presence is a pres-
ence in the mind's perception and not in the feelings (vivid
and faint) which accompany such perception. Moreover,
though " subjective feelings " cannot be like " objective
qualities" there may nevertheless be a true correspondence
between our subjective perception of an object and its object-
ive mode of existence. For, as we have before pointed out, 1
we can know things which never were and never could be
1 See ante, pp. 10, n.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 6/
felt or imagined, and there is the greatest possible difference
between " feelings " and " ideas."
Now let the reader examine what his own mind tells him,
and we are confident he will see that in perceiving any
body to be one body, or to be solid or to be extended or to be
moving, he has, in each separate case, one single and simple
idea and not an amalgam of feelings of " touch," " press-
ure," " effort," and " sight," however indispensable such
feelings may have been in order to call forth perceptions and
ideas of unity, solidity, extension, and motion.
Moreover, the idea of extension may exist apart from
visual feelings, for the blind have it, and apart from tactual
feelings, for it is given by sight alone especially with the
twofold grasp of objects our two eyes simultaneously afford
us. That an idea can persist unchanged amidst changing
sensuous experiences and remain single though revealed to
us by sensuous experiences of many and such diverse kinds,
we have already seen. 1 That feelings of different kinds are
required to arouse our idea of extension, does not show that
the idea is a plexus of feelings any more than that " coal "
is " digging " because we may have to dig in order to obtain
it. The nature of an idea and the modes of its elicitation or
acquisition are two very different things.
Our idea of "force" again becomes known to us by
means of our sense of effort, of resistance, and of resistance
overcome, and such sensations form the occasion through
and by which our intellect comes to perceive that surround-
ing bodies have powers corresponding to our own. Some
persons pretend that we thus commit the absurd mistake of
attributing to inanimate bodies around us activities abso-
lutely like our own. But, in fact, we only attribute to such
bodies powers which have a certain analogy with our own.
If we try to pull a man up from the ground and fail because
1 See ante, pp. 59, 60.
68 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
he is stronger than we are, and if we try to raise a piece of
rock and fail because it is too heavy, we can indeed perceive
a certain analogy between the effect on us of the man and
the rock, but the difference between the two cases is also
plainly evident to the intellect, however alike may be our
sensations in the two cases. Similarly with respect to
our ideas of " number," " extension, " etc. By means of
our sensations, and the relations between them, we arrive at
something fundamentally different from either namely,
an apprehension of external, objective conditions of real, in-
dependent bodies. But, as we have said before, these
conditions are utterly unlike the sensations and relations
between sensations which serve to make such objective
conditions known to us. In considering these things we
must never fail to recollect 1 that it is not " sense" but
" intellect," not our " feelings" but our " perceptions,"
which are our ultimate criteria of certainty and truth.
And our intellect surely tells us that by means of our
sensations we attain to a certain degree of truth with respect
even to the secondary qualities of bodies, and certainly even
the common belief on the subject is nearer the truth than
its negation can be.
We are sometimes told that were there no eyes or ears
darkness and silence would be universal. Now our notion
of light is quite inadequate to make its essential nature
known to us as it might be known by some intelligence of a
higher order than our own. But, nevertheless, if light as
we know it, and sound as we know it, are imperfect cogni-
tions because thus subjective, the vepy same objection ap-
plies to our notions of " darkness " and " silence." They
are as much subjective as our sensations of colour or melody.
A world without eyes or ears would be neither light nor
dark, neither sonorous nor silent, but in a condition abso-
1 See ante, pp. 13, 14.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 69
lutely unimaginable by us. Yet that world would be far
more like the brilliant one we know than it would resemble
one plunged in darkness. For since we suppose the physi-
cal forces, sun, moon, and stars, meteors, volcanoes, and
phosphorescent organisms to exist in it as they do now, all
the objective conditions of light, save sense-organs, would,
by the hypothesis, be present, while the objective conditions
of what, to our senses, is darkness, would not be present.
Though all sensations of eye and ear would, of course,
vanish from such a world, yet the objective qualities those
sensations reveal to us would continue to exist. Other per-
sons, again, think that they get nearer to the absolute truth
of things by considering colours and sounds to be really
" modes of motion " different orders and different degrees
of " vibrations." But, as we have seen, the very same
cavils may be brought against the validity of our perceptions
of primary qualities as against our perceptions of secondary
ones. In that case " vibrations " would be nothing but as-
sociated, vivid and faint, muscular and tactual feelings, and
such must at least be as unlike the objective causes of light,
colour, and sound as are the conceptions of ordinary persons
with respect to the latter.
Bearing these facts in mind, let us once more consider
some objections made by idealists against those who believe
in an independent, external world of real, extended objects
possessing real, objective qualities.
The iridescent tints of minutely grooved surfaces do not
really deceive any more than the effects of coloured lights
or tinted glasses, or than distant mountains which look
purple make us suppose that they are actually purple when
seen close at hand.
The effects of bodily injuries are often cited as evidence
of the untrustworthiness of judgments our sensations induce.
Men who have had a leg amputated sometimes feel as if they
7O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
still had it, and also feel pains in their vanished toes. But
no one would surely be so foolish as to pretend that our
feelings, or even our perceptions, are independent of our
bodily organisation ; if, then, that organisation be impaired,
the action of our sensitive faculty would be likewise im-
paired, nor should we be surprised if our perceptions were
thereby also occasionally misled. If our normal organisa-
tion is so arranged as to guide us right, it should be small
wonder to us if it sometimes guided us wrongly when in an
abnormal condition! But, after all, even though a man
whose leg has been amputated may suffer with pains like
those he might feel if he still had his toes, that does not
lead him to believe that he has actually still got them !
If objects may appear different in size and shape as we
change our place in respect to them, though they in truth
do not so change at all, not only are we not thereby deceived,
but, as we have seen, 1 our knowledge of their objective
qualities may be thereby perfected. A pea held between
our crossed first and middle fingers will not feel like one
pea, but like two peas. But there is no real deception in
this. No one would afBrm that the mere touch of a surface
can impart knowledge as to the bulk and solidity of the ob-
ject touched ; for this, we must also have some experience of
resistance. If, then, with the fore and middle fingers we
simultaneously touch two opposite surfaces and find we can-
not bring our fingers together, the feeling naturally arises
(from long experienced associations of sensations) that an
obstacle in the form of a solid body lies between them an
obstacle situated between the adjacent sides of those fingers.
But if we cross our fingers, then the pea touches those sides
of each finger which do not ordinarily touch the same thing,
but two different things, and this makes the single pea
naturally feel as if it were two peas.
1 See ante, p. 60.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 7 1
As everyone knows, various ingenious instruments have
been invented to produce optical delusions, but that in no
way makes the declaration of our perceptive faculty at all
less trustworthy. We are able, indeed, so to arrange things
as to invert or distort impressions ordinarily made; what
wonder, then, that our sense-perceptions sometimes be-
come inverted or distorted likewise ? But it is generally
the case that though our sense-perception is changed,
our intellectual perception remains perfect all the time,
and so enables us to be the better amused by the sense-
deception induced.
But, it may be urged, most people even now, and every-
one a few centuries ago, have been deceived by their senses
with respect to the motions of the sun and the earth, yet
the fact is, their senses did not deceive them. They only
drew too hasty an inference from what they saw, as a little
reflection will, we think, make obvious. Our sight gives us
no information at all with respect to motion, save indirectly,
/. e., as shown by changes of relative position between ob-
jects. Thus, when we are moving, we may, under some
circumstances, be quite unconscious of it, save for jolts,
jars, the feeling of meeting the air, and other incidents
which are no elements of motion, but merely its accidental
accompaniments. When travellers in a balloon ascend from
the earth, they are said to have no feeling whatever of their
movement, save by looking down on an apparently sinking
world beneath them. The feelings our senses give us, oc-
casion an intellectual apprehension of motion and of moving
things; but that apprehension, we can see by reflection, may
take place with or without inference. With regard to the
movement of the sun, there really is this relative change of
position a fact about which the senses give us accurate in-
formation. Our perception of this relative change of place
does certainly awaken in our intellect a perception of motion,
72 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
but it does not, for it cannot, tell us where the motion is,
without processes of observation and inference. The sup-
posed perception of the sun's motion is an instance of an
inference, not noticed, perhaps, at the time, but clearly
recognisable by reflection. It is impossible for anyone to
really see the sun move. If we fix our eyes on it at sunset
we shall, indeed, from second to second, see that it has
more and more disappeared ; but we cannot see it move.
As to the movement of the sun, the mass of men never think
about its relation to that of the earth. The first observers
inferred that it moved, and that the earth stood still, and
their inference embedded in language, has so affected us,
that to this day everyone speaks of the " rising and set-
ting sun," even though he may know quite well that it
neither sets nor rises, but that the revolving earth gradu-
ally hides it from view and afterwards lets it be seen
once more. What men's senses ever did and do now
make known, are " changes of relative position between
the earth, on which the observer stands, and the sun," and
just such changes do really take place. Thus none of the
objections yet considered allow us to say that our senses
really deceive us.
And, indeed, with regard to the secondary qualities of
bodies, more might yet be urged in defence of the veracity
of our faculties respecting them than we have yet advanced.
No one has ever shown, or can, we believe, show, that it is
impossible for our intellect to obtain, through our sensations
of colour, sound, etc., the truest notions it is possible for
us to have concerning the objective qualities which give rise
to those sensations. The objective cause, whatever it may
be, must be admitted to be occult in each case, except as it
may be made more or less known to us by the sensations it
occasions. Granting, for argument's sake, the absolute
truth of the undulatory theory of light, the objective con-
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 73
dition of an object which causes it to select certain rays for
reflection must be admitted to be as yet quite occult.
Therefore, it cannot be denied that there may be such a
conformity between objective qualities and the effects they
produce on us, that those effects may be the best means
possible for giving us the best understanding we can attain
to of what those objective qualities really are. Though
those effects may be, and probably are, far from telling us
the whole truth, though the objective qualities that produce
them may be very differeit from such effects, and though
much ignorance about su';h objective qualities (the existence
of which we do know) m iy thus have to be added to our
ignorance about various other qualities which probably ex-
ist unknown to us nevertheless, our knowledge, however
fragmentary, is in part true, and, therefore, our faculties,
though inadequate to reveal to us much we might wish to
understand, are nevertheless not mendacious. But some
persons, strange to say, have affirmed that incomplete
knowledge is error ; and that what we know only in part,
we therefore know wrongly.
Yet such an affirmation is surely a most irrational one.
Is the statement, " The angles at the base of an isosceles
triangle are equal," false or erroneous, because it does not;
also express the facts which follow if its sides be produced ?
Is it false to say, "A gibbon has extremely long arms," be-
cause we do not also say, " No ape except a species of gib-
bon has a chin " ?
It is, of course, most true that no man can possess, with
respect to any object whatever, a knowledge of all its
relations (real and possible) with the rest of the universe.
But the impossibility of our being omniscient does not
prevent our having some knowledge which is perfectly
accurate, absolutely true, as far as it goes. Our know-
ledge, for example, of the numerical difference between
74 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
two groups of marbles (one with three, the other with
five) is a perfectly true knowledge, and in no way tainted
with error.
The same example may serve to refute another and very
common objection to the veracity of our perceptions. Some
persons, while professing to know nothing but sensations
and sense-impresses, vivid and faint, yet believe as a sort
of faith in the existence of an independent material world,
quite unlike our perceptions, and yet the cause of them.
The men of this school do really believe in " independent
material objects " and " actual physical states," as realities
independent of their minds and of everyone else's. But, on
their system of knowledge, they can (since they say they
can know nothing but states of consciousness) only get this
belief of theirs by an act of blind and unreasoning credulity.
They also affirm our knowledge to be necessarily untrue,
because it corresponds neither with what is internal and
subjective, nor with what is external and objective. They
regard it as a sort of tertium quid which results from the
combined activity and interaction of both subject and ob-
ject, but resembling neither just as water resembles neither
the oxygen nor the hydrogen from the combination of both
.of which it results. But experience and reflection clearly
show us that our intelligence has the power of unconsciously
subtracting its own subjective element from the result. Let
us concede that every perception is produced by the com-
bination x-\-y ; x being the Ego, or self, and y the object.
Yet the mind has the power of supplying its own x, and
so we get x-\-y x, or y pure and simple. Unless such
were the case, how could we know the real numerical differ-
ence between three marbles and two marbles, between a
cube and a sphere ? Does any reasonable person doubt
that, in these matters at least, we attain to absolute object-
ive truth ?
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 75
It is clear that the mind can correct any such supposed
delusive tendency of its own, or the above facts could not
be known to us as perfectly certain and accurate objective
truths. Thus the mind unquestionably must possess the
power of transmitting to us a knowledge of at least some
facts and principles as they really and objectively exist.
Why should we distrust its other dictates ? Grounding all
our assertions on the positive declarations of our conscious-
ness, we can affirm that we really know (though more or less
imperfectly) things in themselves, and not a mere amalgam
made up of a mixture of the results of objective and subject-
ive influences results neither resembling ourselves nor the
world without us in any one respect.
As to the contention of idealists that the essence of all
existence " is " being perceived," we may freely allow
that nothing can exist in absolutely the same condition
when perceived as when unperceived, for in the former case
it is " a thing perceived," and in the latter case " a thing
unperceived," and " a thing unknown " cannot be identical
with " a thing known." But this contention is one which
is utterly trivial. Of course, things unknown cannot be
known while they exist as unknown objects, and of course,
again, a thing perceived by us does not exist in a state of
" being perceived by us " when we do not perceive it. But
our perceiving it or not perceiving it is (as we have more
than once urged) a mere accident of its existence, which ex-
istence continues on essentially the same, whether perceived
or not. Who has perceived the mountains on the other
side of the moon ; but are they the less real because no one
can perceive them ? Who perceived for untold ages the many
palaeozoic fossils which have been in modern times disen-
tombed ; but have they been less persistently existent on that
account ? Does want of being perceived impair the reality of
the thousands of fossils which as yet remain undiscovered ?
76 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Surely here, as in the former instances we noted, 1 physical
science is fatal to idealism.
Before finally concluding this chapter it may be well to
consider some special objections made by one of our most
esteemed idealists 2 against a non-idealistic conception of
the universe as being self-contradictory and replete with
illusion.
After the usual objections founded on the divergence be-
tween our sensations induced by the secondary qualities of
objects and the objective nature of the latter, he endeavours
to raise difficulties as to our perception of the extended on
the ground that the mode of inherence of its secondary
qualities and the relations holding between them 3 (" how
the qualities stand to the relations which have to hold be-
tween them "), are, on any non-idealistic system, inex-
plicable.
We have already protested 4 against the question, " How-
is knowledge possible ? " as a necessarily idle one. Our
knowledge of the " how anything is " must always repose
upon a previous knowledge of the fact " that it is." To
seek to know the " how " and " why " of every " that," is
to enter upon an inquiry which it is plain cannot possibly
have any end a necessary regressus ad infinitum. All men,
even idealists themselves, have, we are convinced, con-
sciously or unconsciously, an intuition of the extended.
Nevertheless, when affirming anything thus evidently true,
it is specially needful to guard against the appearance of de-
claring any other things to be evident which really are not
evident. Thus many persons assume that " the extended "
must possess secondary qualities, and, of course, our uniform
sensuous experience renders it impossible for us to imagine
1 See ante, pp. 51-53.
9 Dr. F. H. Bradley in his work entitled Appearance and Reality, 1893.
3 Ibid., pp. 14, 15. 4 See ante, p. 56.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 77
any extended object devoid of such qualities. Yet it really
is not evident that it must possess such qualities, though,
of course, its possession of them may in fact be necessary
for all that.
The " extended " must, of course, have some definite
quantity, but it is not evident that " corporeal substance "
must be extended, or, so to speak, be quantitatively ex-
tended in space. Let us suppose that the earth and the
moon were both simultaneously deprived of their extension
while remaining individually distinct, the one from the
other; they would, though not externally extended, have a
definite state of some kind, though we cannot imagine it
even so well as we can imagine what Newton said as to the
possibility of reducing the earth, without loss of substance,
to the size of one cubic inch.
Although merely speculative, it is well to recognise that
when Kant argued that the noumenon of substance did not
evidently demand the phenomena n of extension, he was not
unreasonable save in denying our intuition of extension as
a fact. We have no intuition of the essential nature of
material bodies of corporeal substance in itself such as
would warrant us in drawing the conclusion that it necessa-
rily postulates, short of annihilation, actual extension. But
in order to be able to affirm with certainty that the extended
the external world exists, it is by no means necessary to
know its intimate " nature," and the absolute exhaustive
truth about all or any of its qualities. " Qualities " and
" relations," as such, are, of course, mere abstractions,
though every one of them has a foundation in those real
things of which they are truly predicated.
The difficulties raised by Dr. Bradley are very largely
verbal ones, and result from the impossibility of our imagin-
ing what is beyond our sensuous experience, and from his
proneness to make use of exceedingly sensuous illustrations.
78 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Appearance, he tells us, 1 must belong and yet cannot be-
long, to the extended.
But it is not evident that something extended may not
exist in our vicinity which our sensitive faculties may be
unable to perceive, so that it cannot appear to them ; and it
is certain that multitudes of extended bodies exist in space
(so to speak) which never can appear to any human being.
So much for the first alternative. As to the second, " ap-
pearance " can and does belong to the extended, in so far
as it has objective qualities and powers which our faculties
are able to apprehend. The " appearance " is partly object-
ive and partly subjective, or rather it is in one sense the
former and in another sense the latter, just as we have seen
that colour and sound are both objective and subjective.
That the extended comes to us " only by relation to an
organ," and is " perceived through an affection of our body
and never without," is another objection. But why should
we not apprehend extension through our organs, and what
doubt does such a means of apprehending it cast on the
truth of our apprehension ? Why also should we doubt
the truth of the extension of our own body because we can
only perceive it by the action of one part of it upon another ?
Dr. Bradley says 8 : " That we have no miraculous intui-
tion of our own body as spatial reality is perfectly certain."
The word " miraculous " should not have been used by him
in this context, as it tends to excite an initial prejudice
against the view he opposes. Nobody pretends that we
have such an intuition, but that our possession of an evident
natural intuition is certain we do not hesitate to affirm.
Of course we cannot think till after we have begun to feel,
and our intuition of the body's extension is not gained with-
out experience and without multitudinous antecedent move-
ments between its various parts. But that intuition once
1 Bradley, loc. cit., p. 15. 2 Ibid,, p. 15.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 79
gained is not on that account a bit less clear and distinct at
a very early date.
There is no difficulty in the fact that nothing extended
can be perceived except in relation to thought which is
unextended. Who would expect that two extended but
thoughtless things could perceive each other ? What doubt
is cast upon our intellectual intuitions from the fact that
they cannot do so ?
That extended objects may be real in themselves, with
various relations to our percipience, is opposed by Dr. Brad-
ley on the ground that, " if a thing is known to have a
quality only under a certain condition, there is no process
of reasoning from this which will justify the conclusion that
the thing, if unconditioned, is still the same."
But here the use of the term " unconditioned " seems
quite unwarrantable. Because the conditions which accom-
pany perception may be absent, it by no means follows that
all conditions are absent. Indeed, it is clear and manifest
that no extended object can exist devoid of all relations to
the rest of the universe. The antithesis, therefore, is be-
tween the extended under " some " conditions, and the ex-
tended under " other " conditions, and, thus corrected, the
assertion is plainly erroneous.
We have only known the sun in so far as it is above the
horizon. But that does not prevent our being certain that
we could, were we supplied with certain helps, also see it
on the opposite side of the heavens.
That objection to the reality of qualities only known to
us through one sense one relation which is grounded on
the assertion that to affirm the reality of such qualities apart
from that relation is " more than unwarranted " is itself
" more than unwarranted."
For we always have more than one source of information
about the qualities of things. We have (i) our sensitive
8O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
faculty, which informs us of the subjective results of such
qualities, and we have (2) the intellect, which assures us that
our sensation has, under normal conditions, a real objective
cause.
That extension cannot be presented in thought, or thought
of except as possessing secondary qualities, we altogether
deny, though, as we have already affirmed, it cannot be im-
agined without them.
The former assertion is manifestly false. For though we
cannot think of our extended body except by the aid of
sensuous images, into which imaginations of secondary qual-
ities enter, nevertheless, thus aided, we can think of such
things as devoid of secondary qualities. If we could not do
so we should not be able even to discuss the question
whether the extended can or cannot exist without such
secondary qualities, nor could we have declared, as we have
done, that it is not evident to us either that they can or that
they cannot do so, and that an open mind is to be main-
tained there anent.
Dr. Bradley could not discuss the question either, unless
he had the " miraculous " faculty of writing about a ques-
tion concerning which he is utterly unable to think.
' Extension," like quality (whether primary or second-
ary), is, of course, an abstraction, though with a very solid
foundation in extended things.
The reality of extension, once more, is for us a direct per-
ception. It is no inference, but an intellectual intuition
acquired through the ministry of sense. It is, of course,
most true that we can feel nothing of an object save the
subjective effects of its objective qualities: that in a lump
of sugar we have no sensitive perception of anything but its
whiteness, hardness, roughness, sweetness, etc., together
with its shape and its extension ; but we none the less know
that there is more. We have, as we before said, no intuition
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 8 1
of the corporeal substance in itself, but we have an evident
intuition of corporeal substance in conjunction with the
qualities our senses make known to us. This is the material
substance which Bishop Berkeley said he alone denied the
existence of, and the absence of which, he declared, would
be missed by none. But its absence would, indeed, be
missed by all ; for the plain man always thinks of a material
object as something real in itself over and above its qualities.
Such reality is apprehended by every healthy and normal
intellect. It is easy to laugh at Dr. Johnson's refutation
of idealism by kicking a stone. But that simple act was a
refutation of it, for it was an energetic manifestation of
Johnson's perception that he had an intuition of real, ex-
tended, independent objects. It was a mute expression of
a profound philosophic truth a truth which underlies all
physical science the truth, namely, that we have an intui-
tion of the extended.
After the most patient consideration it has been in our
power to bestow on Dr. Bradley's contention, we remain
convinced that he has succeeded neither in showing that
primary and secondary qualities stand on a similar footing
in the mind, nor that the latter are appearances only, and
are not known to us as revealing corresponding objective
realities. But if neither primary nor secondary qualities are
mere appearances, a fundamental mistake underlies his whole
contention, that the world as perceived and understood by
the mass of mankind is mere delusion. If, then, we are to
rise out of utter scepticism the irrational nature of which
will be later pointed out we are justified in shaking off the
prejudices of idealism.
These prejudices are ultimately due to a non-recognition
of the fundamental difference which exists between feelings
and ideas, between the impressions of our sensitive faculty
and the dictates of the pure intellect. They are therefore
82 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
due to an utterly inadequate apprehension of the power and
dignity of human reason.
But if the system which underlies idealism were true, if
we had no means of perception save sensations and sense-
impresses (vivid and faint feelings), then we could have no
warrant for a belief in an external world, or for a conviction
that other minds existed in addition to our own. If we
could know nothing but complex associations of our own
feelings, what right could we possibly have to affirm that
anything else existed ? If we could in no way get beyond
our own being, the only absolute certainty for us must
be our own feelings, and so we become upholders of Solip-
sism. It would be all very well to talk of a divine mind which
produced those feelings in our mind; or of a material uni-
verse possessing many energies, whereof our own feeling was
one ; or of an impersonal absolute which became conscious
in our consciousness; or of a monistic universe, the absolute
unity of which has two sides one physical, the other
psychical like the one substance of Spinoza with its two
attributes, thought and extension. All these for the con-
sistent idealist would be so many pleasant or unpleasant
dreams, with no more body or coherence in any one of them
than in the mist of the morning. For 'such an idealist there
is but one firm reality his own sentient being, and of all
else he is evidently the creator (since everything he knows
is a plexus of feelings which his being has caused to exist),
though as to how he created the universe he need neither
know nor care to inquire. It is enough for him that he has,
in fact, produced it, and that its being depends absolutely
on his own. The divine mind, the material world, the ab-
solute, the uncogitable unity of the monists, and the sub-
stance of Spinoza, will by him be courteously bowed out or
unceremoniously kicked out, according to his idealistic
temperament, and he can logically remain, like the Indian
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 83
sage in peaceful contemplation of the plexus of feelings he
calls his own navel, as a symbol of that first cause and im-
manent upholder, from which all things have proceeded,
and in which all things have their only being.
This logical development of idealism finds small favour
with existing idealists. Solipsism is looked at askance with
evident dread by some, and vain attempts at its refutation
have been made by others. But it remains none the less
invincible on its rock of "nothing-known-but-feelings." It
was, as our readers know, first developed and upheld by
Fichte, though he ultimately abandoned it; and thus the
logical outcome of the system of idealism has been practi-
cally condemned by its own disciples. To the other ideal-
istic extreme, that by Hume, we will sacrifice no space, for,
in spite of its author's acuteness and great ability, it does
not really admit of logical statement, so utterly incoherent
is it, and so confident are we that its ingenious author had
no belief in it himself, but was laughing in his sleeve at his
inept admirers and disciples.
In opposition to the notion of solipsism that everything
we can perceive or imagine is but a mode of our own per-
sonality may be opposed the contradictory form of ideal-
ism, before referred to by us, 1 which would assert that our
personality is but a mode of the absolute or of some divine
existence. But, as Mr. Arthur Balfour has well remarked,
" the very notion of personality excludes the idea of any
one person being a ' mq^e ' of any other."
A system which would strongly, and with reason, deny
that it was idealist, may conveniently, with apologies to its
advocates, be here briefly referred to.
This at present popular system is Monism, which solves
the conflict between the advocates of mind and the advo-
cates of matter (as alone the source of all whereof we can
1 See ante, p. 40.
84 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
have any knowledge) by denying them both and affirming
that nothing exists but a substance utterly unknowable save
as regards two of its aspects, one psychical, the other
material. According to it, thought is nervous tissue in mo-
tion just so far as nervous tissue in motion is thought, both
being eternally divergent and antithetical modes of a sub-
stance which is neither thought nor matter.
This system affords a seemingly easy way of explaining
the ever-recurring puzzle about " matter" and " mind."
How can mind (unextended and immaterial) ever possibly
act or be acted on by such a thing (extended and material)
as matter ? This question has tortured many choice minds
for more than two centuries, because men sought to obtain
an answer to it in impossible terms, namely, in terms of the
imagination. But it is utterly impossible for us to imagine
the action of mind on matter or of matter on mind, simply
because the mind never has been or can be a matter of
sensuous experience, and we can never imagine anything of
which we have not had such experience.
But our inability to imagine such action does not consti-
tute an argument of the slightest value against the reality
of such action (in ways which are beyond our power of im-
agination), if our intellect shows us good reason for thinking
that such action does, in fact, take place, and there is no
real evidence that such reciprocal action is impossible.
But because it is felt difficult to imagine the action of
mind on matter or of matter on mind, it is a curious method
of obtaining relief to assume the unique existence of some-
thing more unimaginable (because more unknowable) than
either, and take that as a satisfactory explanation !
Matter we know and mind we know, but what is this x
underlying both, the only properties of which are the two
manifestations of existence (mental and physical) deemed
the very metaphysical antipodes of being ?
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 85
If it is difficult to understand matter and mind as recipro-
cally active, how can the emergence of entities so antitheti-
cal from one absolutely unique and common source be better
understood ?
We have an intuition of the extended the physical. Is
it possible that we should have a less perfect intuition of
our own consciousness ? Surely our reason tells us that we
know them both as evident existences and as existences pro-
foundly different. This is made manifest by the diversity
of their activities, and this diversity can be perceived in our
own intimate, unique, concrete being.
Suppose we are energetically opposing the entrance of
someone into the room we are in, by leaning the whole
weight of our body against the door of it. We have a dis-
tinct intuition both of our volitional effort and intention and
also of our body acting by its mere weight as a corpse or a
block of wood might do.
To disregard such positive intuition of two evident entities
thus different in action, in favour of an unthinkable entity,
with no apparent power of exercising activity in either mode,
is, in our humble judgment, little less than a deliberate
abandonment of philosophy gained by experience in favour
of a mere intellectually groundless fancy.
We hope that enough has here been said to justify the
dictates of the human intellect (as recognised by all but
idealists and monists) in its declaration that we have the
power of cognising an external, independent world of things
in themselves, real objects possessing real qualities, apart
from any perception of them by any imaginable mind. We
have maintained, and do maintain, that the existence of
such a world is (in our judgment) an absolutely certain and
self-evident fact, of which the intellect, through the ministra-
tion of the senses, acquires a direct intuition. Yet we will
proffer one more argument for the consideration of those
86 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
who may still hesitate as to the final rejection of ideal-
ism. This argument springs from a recognition of the fact
that the contentions and objections put forward by idealists
remain as plausible as ever, even upon the hypothesis that
an external world exists. Let us assume, for argument's
sake, that a real, external, extended world of " things in
themselves " exists on all sides of us, we remaining the
beings we are. Could we possibly know of the existence of
such a world except by some influence it should exercise
upon our organs of sense ? Could we get at it in any way
except by means of our faculties conjoined with its influ-
ences ? It would, therefore, always be possible for men of
a certain turn of mind to declare they had no ground to ac-
cept the existence of anything save the " influences " and
the " faculties " themselves, and to deny the existence of
anything producing the former or anything possessing the
latter. Nay, let us suppose ourselves creatures possessing
a thousand different kinds of sense-organs, revealing to us a
mass of properties possessed by objects now quite unimagin-
able by us ; however great the number of orders of sensitivity
or of properties possessed by the external objects, the posi-
tion must ever remain the same. The external world could
never, under any circumstance, be known save through some
influence exercised by it on organs capable of in some way
responding thereto, and thus nothing could make evident an
external world (by our hypothesis supposed to exist inde-
pendently) to men bent upon regarding the mere means of
cognition as the object of cognition itself.
The systems which different idealists have put forward
are just those, and nothing more, which men, determined to
regard mere signs as everything, and utterly to disregard
their signification (a signification evident to the good sense of
all who are not blinded by an extraordinary intellectual per-
versity), are forced to construct.
THE OBJECTS OF SCIENCE 8/
To those who have so far followed us, then, it will be
clear that the objects of science are in part mental and in part
material.
Its objects are, in part, thoughts and all that concerns our
mental nature, but they also, in part, consist of material
things, possessing various powers 'and energies ; and all
these things (a knowledge of which the human mind can
attain to), as well as matters mental, are true and proper
objects of science.
But the human mind has never been satisfied with a mere
knowledge of facts. Having ascertained the fact that any
individual thing is (i. e., exists), its next questions are, what
is it and why is it ? What is its essential nature ? In what
relation does that nature stand to the natures of other exist-
ences ? What are we to think of the whole whereof it is a
part, that is, the universe ? What is the cause of the in-
dividual thing investigated ? Has it a purpose, or final
cause, as well as an efficient cause ? Finally, can anything,
and, if so, what, be said as to the nature and causation of
the universe itself ?
Beyond the knowledge we may be able to acquire about
our own minds, and beyond all we can ascertain about the
material universe, man has, by a natural, spontaneous im-
pulse, been ever driven to pass beyond all that is physical
and seek for metaphysical truth. Physics never have, and
probably never will content him. He will ever crave to add
thereto the science of metaphysics. That such a science
does or can exist many men devoted to this or that special
branch of physics energetically deny.
It is neither our business nor our purpose here to consider
whether this denial is, or is not, to be justified. All we
have to do is to recognise the fact that very many of the
highest minds the world has ever known have been devoted
to metaphysics, and also the further fact, that if such know-
88 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
ledge can be acquired, since all knowledge is science of some
kind, such metaphysical science must be the highest of
sciences, and may be called the science of science. The
objects of science, then, described in the most general
terms, may be said to be threefold : mental, physical, and
metaphysical.
CHAPTER IV
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE
THE objects about which science concerns itself are, as
we saw in the last chapter, threefold : they are, in the
first place, the material bodies, inanimate and animate, which
surround us, together with all those of their relations, quali-
ties, and energies, which our senses and our reason combine
to inform us about. In the second place, they are the
various mental facts and processes which are revealed to us
by consciousness and introspection. In the third place,
they are problems concerning the essences and causes of
whatever can be to us an object of knowledge, including the
universe itself, in all its parts and considered as one whole.
The method by which science proceeds with its investiga-
tions of the objects of its study is essentially the same in all
cases, though variously modified according to the kind of
matter about which it is for the time occupied.
But it is in no way the object of this work to describe
the special methods whereby the various sciences have been
brought to their present state of cultivation, nor the several
modes in which each of them is now being pursued. Our
only purpose is to point out, in the most general terms,
certain characteristics, certain necessary conditions, which
are common to the study of all, or of a great many of them.
Physical science the science occupied about the first of
the three categories of objects distinguished at the beginning
89
90 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
of this chapter has been said to consist of careful meas-
urements ; and there is much truth in the saying, if a
sufficiently wide meaning be assigned to the term " measure-
ment." For science has to consider, as everyone knows,
not only spatial dimensions or the extent and directions in
which any body is extended, or, in popular phraseology,
" occupies space " but also differences of quality, differ-
ences of energy, and of qualities as well as quantities of
energy, and differences in respect to all those qualities
which the different senses we possess enable us, though in
radically diverse ways, to be subjectively affected by, and,
through the intervention of the intellect, to perceive the
objective existence of.
But for the apprehension of all these matters, measurement
is an indispensable and also an efficient aid. Thus, inquiries
as to matters seemingly so purely qualitative as different
degrees of warmth, are answered by thermometric measure-
ments ; differences of velocity are estimated by the aid of
the chronometer, and differences in the action of gravity,
under various conditions, by the measurement of weight.
Our own past history and the history of mankind are to be
understood only by measurements of time. Moreover, to
know anything, as we said before, 1 is to know that it is dis-
tinct from something else, which is to know numerical differ-
ence, which is again counting, and that, to a certain degree,
is measurement.
But, though the inquiries of physical science may be gen-
erally described as various kinds of measurements, such a
phrase is obviously inapplicable to the investigations of
mental science. It is true that our own existence does not
become known to us save through successive changes in
consciousness (successive " states of consciousness "), that
is, through " relations " which exist between them, and all
1 See ante, p. 18.
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 91
mental facts become known through relations in which they
stand to other such facts and to our consciousness. But
these are not, in any true sense, " measurements." On the
other hand, all the problems solved by careful measurements
in physical science are in every case ascertained and solved
by the attainment of a correct appreciation of relations
existing between different objects and activities. And, in-
deed, metaphysics may also be said to be occupied about
metaphysical relations. Thus all science is one vast process
of ascertaining, as correctly as possible, relations (e. g., co-
existence, succession, and causation) of very different orders
of things.
But owing to our organisation, every such inquiry must
be carried on, and every conclusion arrived at, through
either our sense-perceptions * or by the aid of sensuous im-
aginations, however supersensuous the essential nature of
the object of our inquiry may be.
The imaginations we make use of need not, of course, be
mental pictures of concrete, extended things ; they may be
the merest symbols, and such symbols are not only of the
greatest utility, but are absolutely necessary for the very
simplest kinds of science.
Spoken and written words are such audible and visible
symbols, and so are numerals and all algebraic signs. By
means of symbols we can work out the most complicated
results without any need of thinking, meanwhile, what it is
such symbols represent. But in the end, to arrive at any
practical or complete result, the symbols must be retrans-
lated into the things they symbolised, and thus the corre-
spondence of processes gone through (simple or complex)
may be tested by our direct or our indirect sense-perceptions.
Thus, in matters so elementary as the simple addition of
numerals, the result may be tested by taking parcels of
1 See ante, p. 9.
Q2 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
things, e.g., marbles, each corresponding in number with
one of the (symbols) numbers to be added together, and,
having mixed the whole, then counting them, and so seeing
that the senses of sight and touch confirm the previous re-
sult of the addition of the numerical symbols. It is the
same as regards the process of subtraction ; its correspond-
ence with the real relations which exist between the sub-
stantial things may be similarly tested.
The symbolism of science may be very well exemplified by
the simplest facts of algebra, which, as our readers know, is
a branch of science replete with the most beautiful, complex,
ingenious, and far-reaching processes, whereby alone many
calculations are made possible, or the labours of investigation
lessened, while the results arrived at have complete accuracy.
This is the case even when we find need to employ symbols
which express not only unreal, but even impossible, quanti-
ties, by means of which we may arrive at otherwise unattain-
able truths concerning real or possible existences. Such is the
case, because they express abstract truths which have real
applications, or would have them could the impossible con-
ditions, sometimes supposed, really exist. Thus even the
absurd and impossible quantities expressed by the symbol
V x has its relations with reality. It is, of course, really
impossible in itself, since there is no quantity which, being
multiplied by itself, gives a negative product. Yet it has
its relation with reality, inasmuch as it can be used as if it
were a real quantity, and all the laws and relations relating
to real quantities can be applied to it.
The truths and processes of algebra may be tested by our
direct sense-experience (as may those of arithmetic) by
making use of definite numbers as representatives of alge-
braic symbols, and so translating algebra into arithmetic in
order to be practically tested. The truths of geometry may
be tested by being made evident to the eye and by reasoning.
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 93
Making free use of the indispensable aid of symbols,
science proceeds to investigate the objects of its study (i)
by observation, (2) by reasoning, (3) by putting forward
hypotheses, and (4) by testing the hypotheses put forward.
Scientific observation consists in carefully and attentively
bringing to bear the senses appropriate to each fact to be :
investigated, making use of all the artificial means and ap-
pliances available for the purpose, with a mind well informed
as to what has been done in the same field before, the in-
tellect being also aroused for the detection of likenesses
and differences between the objects or actions studied,
and other allied objects or actions, and in a state of expect-
ancy as to the possibilities or probabilities of results to be
anticipated.
Where it is possible, such observations have to be supple-
mented by others in which circumstances and conditions
have been specially arranged to facilitate discovery. In
other words, simple observations have to be supplemented
by experiments, and these must evidently be varied accord-
ing to the nature of the matter under investigation.
In many sciences it is evident that no true experiments
are possible, but only different degrees of ingenuity in de-
vising modes of accurate observation. Such must be, of
course, the case with the study of astronomy, history, palae-
ontology, etc.
Facts having been sufficiently ascertained, the truths so
elicited may be further developed by reasoning according to
the laws of logic. Thus it is we gain a distinct and certain
perception of truths which were before but imperfectly,
only implicitly, apprehended, through the deductive reason-
ing of the syllogism. By induction, as we all know, we can
form judgments more or less probable, and sometimes even
certain. Thus, for example, having examined many kinds
of pouched animals, and found that they all possess both a
94 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
peculiar conformation of jaw and also marsupial bones, we
judge that if a new species be discovered with one of these
characters it will also possess the other.
Such a judgment can never be a certain, but only an em-
pirical, 1 judgment, and it is no wonder that exceptions to
the above-mentioned rule of co-existence have been found.
But certainty may be attained in some cases. Thus, by the
study of different kinds of rocks we easily perceive that they
have been deposited at different dates, and that the animals
which 'have left their remains fossilised within them were
inhabitants of the earth at different periods.
In endeavouring to reason out the cause (or causes) of any
event or fact, we seek it amongst the invariable antecedents
or concomitants of that event or fact by five different
methods.
There is first the " method of agreement," which endeav-
ours to discover whether, in many cases of the occurrence
of the fact we seek to explain, one circumstance is present
in every case, and is the only one so invariably present.
Secondly, there is the " method of difference," by which
the endeavour is made to find two instances alike in all their
circumstances save one, in addition to the difference that in
one instance the event, or fact, the cause of which is sought
is present, while in the other it is absent. When two such
instances are found, then the single circumstance found to
co-exist with the event or fact must at least be closely
related to its cause.
Thirdly, we have the " joint method of agreement and
difference," which may be thus stated:
If in two instances in which y occurs JIT is also present, while
two instances in which y does not occur, have nothing in
common save the absence of x, then x is the cause of y.
If we subtract from a given effect all that is due to cer-
1 See ante. p. 8.
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 95
tain causes, then the residue is the effect of the rest of the
causes. This is the fourth method " that of residues."
Fifthly, and lastly, if x and y increase, decrease, and vary
together, then one is the cause of the other or is closely
connected with such cause. This is called " the method of
concomitant variations."
Objection has been made to the validity of such reason-
ings on the ground that the universe is never the same in all
particulars save one, at any two successive instants, and
that two instances of any event or fact have never occurred
with only one circumstance in common. These theoretical
objections may also be urged not only against the above
" methods," but against all investigations by experiment
and observation.
The objection is no doubt formally correct. The celestial
bodies are never in the same position for two successive in-
stants, while, on the other hand, their existence persists
through whatever series of experiments we carry on.
In all cases also there are, and must be, both a multitude
of persistences and a multitude of changes, no one of which
we may ever become aware of. But although such theo-
retical inadequacies must be admitted to exist in every such
proof, they can in most cases be sufficiently well allowed for
to serve all practical purposes.
The existence of the Pleiades, or even of the mountains
in the moon, can be tranquilly ignored while we are trying
experiments with respect to the solidification of gases, nor
do the gavials of the Ganges interfere with careful investiga-
tions into the development of the amphioxus or the apteryx.
There is hardly need to remind any reader of this book
that the " method of agreement " is necessarily uncertain,
because one effect may have several causes ; but this defect
does not apply to " the joint method of agreement and
difference."
96 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
The idea as to what may be the cause of any effect is gen-
erally suggested by analogy, or resemblance known, or sus-
pected, to exist between causes and effects thought to be
similar to the case investigated ; and, of course, a cause will,
as a rule, be the more easily discovered the greater the num-
ber of instances of the supposed effect we examine.
A suspected cause may be tested by allowing it to operate
in circumstances of less complication, to see whether the
effect will still be produced. This is, of course, one import-
ant instance of carrying on scientific experiments. The
process of seeking out analogies and resemblances wisely is
perhaps the special characteristic of a sagacious man of
science. The process of constructing carefully thought out
hypotheses, and then skilfully and accurately submitting
them to fitting tests for verification, is the method by which
the greatest scientific advances have been made during the
last three centuries ; although it must be admitted that much
time and effort have been wasted by the frequent emission
of careless and ill-considered speculations.
The foregoing observations with respect to the methods
of science may suffice, because our purpose in referring to,
and briefly noting them in the most general terms, has not
been for their own sake. We assume that most of our
readers already know as much as we could tell them with
respect to the methods of science generally, and the details
of such methods with respect to those sciences with which
they are best acquainted.
Our purpose in devoting this chapter to a general view of
the methods of science has had special reference as every
chapter in this book has special reference to the subject of
Epistemology.
Our main object is briefly to call attention to certain ideas,
perceptions, and convictions which are present, in at least a
latent condition, in every method whereby science is pursued
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE
97
and advanced, and consciously or unconsciously in the minds
of those who pursue it.
The question concerning the intellectual justification of
these ideas, perceptions, and convictions will be entered
upon later.
Now, doubt and scepticism are not only legitimate but
necessary in science. They are safeguards against rash as-
sent to propositions inadequately proved. True as this
is as regards physical science, it is still more true with
regard to problems that are ultraphysical, in studying
which it is especially necessary to withhold assent from
what does not appear to be clearly and evidently true to
our own minds.
Yet it is possible, here as elsewhere, to go from one ex-
treme to another, and to become so possessed by a tendency
to doubt as to forget the existence and legitimacy of
certainty.
Nevertheless, we all of us possess absolute certainty con-
cerning many things, and this especially applies to those
men who cultivate science. We are all certain that science
has advanced, and that our physical knowledge is greater in
extent and better grounded than it was in the days of
Copernicus. Every man of science is also certain that some
progress is being made in that department to which he is
himself devoted, whatever that may be. But it is obvious
that such advance would be impossible if we could not, by
means of observations, experiments, and reasoning, become
so certain with respect to some facts as to be able to make
them the starting-points for fresh observations and inferences
as to other facts.
Thus for the astronomer, the earth's annual revolution
round the sun, its daily revolution round its own axis and
the coinciding of these two revolutions in the case of the
moon, are matters of absolute certainty. No geologist en-
98 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
tertains the slightest doubt that the earth's crust is largely
composed of strata which have been in past ages deposited
from water.
No zoologist can doubt that the transitory stages which
most of the higher animals go through in passing from their
embryonic to their adult condition, bear a general resem-
blance to permanent adult conditions of other animals of
lower types of organisation. In science, as in matters of
every-day life, there are a multitude of facts as to which no
man in his senses can entertain any doubt. Though we are
for the most part content to act on reasonable probabilities,
yet certainty attends us at every turn. If we meet a friend
in the street going away from home, we know that we shall
not find him if we go straight to his house. If we find on
returning to our library that a window, which we had care-
fully closed before starting, is open, we are quite sure that
someone must have opened it. Such certainties about
ordinary and scientific matters are quite beyond the reach
of reasonable doubt, and it is very necessary, for our pur-
pose here, to recognise that such is the case.
The methods of science clearly imply a conviction on the
part of those who follow them that there really is such a
thing as legitimate certainty.
If such were not the case, there could be no true science
of any kind. Blind disbelief would be as fatal to science as
blind belief, and healthy and firm convictions must follow
the presence of sufficient evidence, otherwise the progress
of science would be fatally arrested. It is necessary, then,
distinctly to recognise that there is such a thing as legiti-
mate certainty, not to perceive the force of which is illegiti-
mate doubt. The first conviction, then, to which we desire
in this chapter to call attention as being implicit in all pur-
suit of science, is the conviction that there is such a thing
as certainty, and that there are at least some things which
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 99
we can ascertain to be certainly true. In a later chapter we
will consider the justification of this conviction, and the
other convictions implied in the pursuit of science.
But what does the assertion that anything can be " cer-
tainly trtie " imply ?
" Truth " has sometimes been said to be a mere subjective
feeling of the mind truth for each man being just that
which each man troweth and no more. But the objectivity
of truth is easily shown, since the sceptic who would deny
it, in denying it, refutes himself. For if the statement
" Truth is merely an individual feeling" were true, then
that very statement, as a fact, would itself be an objective
truth, and therefore, more than a mere individual feeling.
But, as John Stuart Mill long ago pointed out, the recogni-
tion of the truth of any judgment is not only an essential
part, but the essential part, of it as a judgment. Leave
that out, and it remains a mere play of thought in which no
judgment is passed. No follower of any branch of physical
science can doubt that truth is more than a mere quality of
a feeling, or that it has a real relation to things external to
his mind. Were not such the case, science, once more,
could make no progress. We do not base our scientific in-
ductions and deductions on what we regard as so many
individual feelings, but upon what we regard as facts real
relations between real events and things without a found-
ation in which our conclusions would be worthless. The
truth of physical science consists, and must consist, in the
agreement of " thought " with " things," of the world of
" perceptions, ideas, and inferences " with the world of
external existences."
In our last chapter we endeavoured to point out how im-
possible it is to express the facts, processes, and conclusions
of physical science in terms of idealism ; and we find that
the most devoted idealists who also follow some branch of
100 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
physical science are absolutely forced by their science to use
language essentially inconsistent with their philosophy, of
which fact it would be as easy as it seems superfluous (and
perhaps invidious) to give instances.
But the fact that the pursuit of science cannot be carried
on without a real and true apprehension of things objective,
and that we possess a special faculty which certainly reveals
to us objective truths, are truths contained (however little
it may be noticed) in every observation or experiment we
may make, and in every conclusion we may draw.
That special faculty of ours, the wonderful office of which
it is to reveal to us objectivity with absolute certainty, is
our faculty of memory.
Now, as we hardly need say, everything which is objective
is external to the self to the self which is feeling or think-
ing. Thus all existences, even states of the " self " or the
" Ego," which are anterior to the time of any actual think-
ing are also objective: they are objects of thought.
It is memory which enables us to get, intellectually, out-
side our present selves and our present feelings, in a way
the truth of wriich no sane man can question. For memory
informs us with absolute certainty about some events of our
past lives. There is probably no one who reads these pages
who is not absolutely sure that he was doing some other
thing before he began to read them.
And since it is thus actually demonstrated to us through
our memory that we can know with absolute certainty things
which are objective as regards time, it is the less disputable
that our faculties have the power also to inform us as to
things which are external to us spatially objective and
that, as was contended in the last chapter, we have an in-
tuition of real external bodies : an external world as ordinar-
ily understood. The questions as to the validity and the
nature of memory will be subsequently considered. They
THE ME THODS OF 'SCIENCE ' I O I
are only here referred to as auxiliary to our apprehension of
objectivity.
Thus the second conviction which we desire to point out
as existing, at least in a latent condition, in all physical
science, and therefore implied in all its methods, is the con-
viction that an independent, extended, external world really
exists, that there are truly objective existences, and that
truth is a relation of conformity between the dictates of the
mind and other really existing conditions and relations.
We have just referred to our faculty of memory, and that
same faculty is intimately connected with the third convic-
tion which must be latent in every pursuit of science. This
third conviction is the certainty we have of our own con-
tinued personal existence, and along with it the certainty
that we do, in fact, know our actions, sensations, reminis-
cences, emotions, perceptions, conceptions, and inferences.
How would it be possible for any scientific experiments to
be carried on if we could not be perfectly certain that it was
we ourselves who carried them on : that it was we who had
both arranged the test conditions and also noted the results ?
How, again, could we arrive at any conclusion if we had
any doubt about our really having felt, perceived, or reasoned
out the results we had felt, perceived, or reasoned out ?
Even mere scientific observation would be impossible if
we had any doubt that it was we ourselves one and the
same person who began the observation and carried it
through to its end.
To some of our readers these remarks and queries may
seem superfluous or even idle. Such, however, is by no
means the case, as the same readers will clearly see if they
will have patience to peruse this volume to its close. The
truths which to them may seem so obvious and undeniable
that their enumeration is unnecessary, are truths which have
been denied, and are denied by men of very considerable in-
IO2 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
tellectual distinction. For our purpose, that is, to obtain a
correct view as to Epistemology, it is extremely necessary
to recognise the fact that we cannot follow science if we
either, really and truly, doubt the possibility of certainty,
or the actual certainty of a greater or less number of facts
and principles, the truth of which every science, whatever it
may be, necessarily implies.
Provisionally recognising, then, the fact of our continued
existence, as vouched for by memory (i. e., till in our eighth
chapter the question is more fully discussed), and recognis-
ing the fact of the existence of an external world, the com-
ponents of which stand in various active and causal relations
to each other and to us, we have next to consider a matter
hardly less momentous. This is the bearing of scientific
progress on the question of the validity of the process of in-
ference. The remark hardly need be made that no science
has been developed or could be made to progress without
it. A direct knowledge of events, facts, and their relations,
sufficiently complete to constitute any one of the sciences,
would be too vast in extent to be possible for the human
mind.
It is conceivable that other beings, endowed with much
greater and more far-reaching intellectual powers, might be
able to perceive, by direct intuition, all that we are able
laboriously to attain to by indirect processes of inference.
However that may be, ratiocination is necessary for us
(being no better endowed than we are), and every man of
science must admit that valid inference is not only a possi-
bility, but a fact. He must admit that inferences which are
perfectly valid and certain have been drawn ; since, other-
wise, there could be no science about the certainty of which
we could rest secure. He also knows (as we have already
seen) that there is such a thing as scientific certainty, and
that to some scientific propositions we can assent without
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 103
the least fear of error. But this implies that we may, and
that we must, place confidence in the principles of deduction
in that perception of the mind which we express by the
word " therefore." When we use that word we mean to
express by it that there is a truth, the certainty of which is
shown through the help of different facts or principles, which
themselves are antecedently known to be true. The valid-
ity of inference is, then, the fourth of those truths to which
we desire here to call attention as being convictions implied
in physical science and in all methods by which that science
is pursued. Of the process of inference itself, we shall have
more to say hereafter; all we desire here to insist upon is
that to deny its validity is absolutely to stultify the whole
of human science.
But though inferences are necessary for science, our read-
ers will not forget that (as we before pointed out) all reason-
ing reposes upon a knowledge of facts antecedently known
to be true. However long our processes of reasoning may
be they must stop somewhere. If we were bound to prove
everything, the process would never end, and in this way
again we should be reduced to a regressus ad infinitum, and
no single proposition could ever be proved. It is therefore
certain that if any inferences are true and valid they must
ultimately repose on facts directly known to us without
reasoning; and our fifth conviction, implicitly contained in
every method by which science is pursued, is, and must be,
the truth that there are some propositions which carry with
them their own evidence, which are evident in and by them-
selves. What is to be said in deprecation or defence of this
character of self-evident truthfulness thus attributed to some
propositions, we will see later on. What is here to be noted
is the fact that science can have neither justification, de-
velopment, nor even existence, unless it be conceded that
not only is the principle of inference valid, but also that
104 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
underlying true and valid inferences, there are, and must be,
in the last resort, certain truths which are made known to
us by their own direct evidence, and need no process of
proof.
These are intuitive truths, directly apprehended by our
power of intellectual intuition. 1 And, indeed, it is perfectly
evident that the convictions at which men of science arrive
,by means of their observations, experiments, and inferences,
are not blind convictions which they are compelled to arrive
at they know not how or why. They are eminently intelli-
gent convictions, attained by a conscious and intentional
pursuit of truth, and of which those who hold them can
give a good account, assigning valid reasons for the scientific
faith which is in them.
Amongst the facts and truths thus self-evident are certain
evident principles of reasoning. Physical science is em-
phatically experimental science. But every experiment
carefully performed implies a most important latent truth.
For when an experiment has shown us that anything is
certain, as, for example, that a newt's leg may grow again
after amputation, because one actually has so grown again,
we shall find that such certainty implies an a priori truth.
It implies that if the newt has come to have four legs once
more, it cannot at the very same time have only three legs.
This remark may seem almost absurdly trivial ; but it is im-
possible to make principles of this kind too clear too plainly
certain and inevitable and there is nothing so useful for
bringing home to the mind an important abstract truth as
the presentation of a plain and indisputable concrete example.
Anything we are certain about, because it has been proved
to us by experiment, is certain only if we know, and because
we know that a thing which has been actually proved can-
not at the same time remain unproven, and this depends
1 See ante, pp. 14, 47.
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 105
again on a still more fundamental truth which our reason
recognises the truth, namely, that "nothing can at the
same time both be and not be "the truth known as the
principle of contradiction, which we here bring forward as
the sixth conviction which must be tacitly, if not expressly,
recognised by everyone who cultivates science. It is, at
lea.3t, latent in every scientific method we employ. Whether
or not, in ultimate analysis, the validity of this principle can
be sustained, it is at least certain that it is constantly acted
on; and this not only in the pursuit of science, but in the
judgments and actions of every-day life.
A seventh conviction, which is latent and is acted upon
in all the methods of science, is that of the truth of such
axioms as " the whole is greater than its part," and that
" things which are equal to the same thing are equal to
each other." Merely noting this fact, which no one will
care to dispute, and reserving what more we may have to
say about it for a subsequent chapter, we will pass on to the
eighth conviction implied, and at least latent in the methods
of science, namely, the principle of causation. However
much the validity of this principle may be disputed by philo-
sophers and such disputes will be considered later it is
impossible to deny that it is practically acted upon by those
who prosecute any branch of physical science. It is indis-
putable that any sudden and unexpected change which may
be detected by any scientific observer, is at once put down
as due to some cause, while he will often do his utmost to
detect what that cause may be. That no change can take
place, that no new existence can arise, save as the result of
causation, is spontaneously acted on by every man of
science, and, indeed, by every man of ordinary intelligence,
as if it were the most certain and indisputable of axioms.
Closely connected with this principle is the ninth conviction,
namely, the conviction that the course of nature is uniform.
106 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
The uniformity of nature is so evidently necessary an as-
sumption for all who would investigate nature's phenomena
and ascertain her laws, that the mere mention of the fact is
all that seems necessary at this stage of our progress.
Lastly, since we have seen that the methods of science
imply the conviction on our part that some truths are nec-
essary, and that they reveal to us objective necessities in
external nature, we must here set down the tenth and last
of those convictions to which we desire to call attention.
This is the conviction that there really is a condition ex-
pressed by the abstract term necessity, a term which would
be meaningless without the correlative condition and term
contingency.
Reserving, as before said, for a future occasion, an
examination into the validity of the fundamental assump-
tions which must be made by all who pursue physical
science, and which are latent in its every method, we may
briefly tabulate those assumptions as follows :
(1) It is possible to arrive at certain knowledge about
some things, and some absolute scientific certainty
has been actually attained.
(2) An external objective world exists and is truly appre-
hended by some of our intellectual acts, an abso-
lutely certain knowledge of objectivity being afforded
us through memory, which reveals to us real exist-
ences external to all our present experience.
(3) We can know not only our actions, sensations, im-
aginations, reminiscences, perceptions, conceptions,
and inferences, but also our own substantial and
continuous personal existence.
(4) We know that if certain premises be true, then what-
ever logically follows from them must be true like-
wise.
THE METHODS OF SCIENCE 107
(5) Since we thus know certain truths indirectly by in-
ference, we must also know some things directly and
see that they are self-evident.
(6) Nothing can at the same time both be and not be.
(7) Some axioms are self-evident.
(8) Every change and every new existence must be due
to some cause.
(9) Nature is uniform.
(10) Some things are necessary and others are contingent.
The fact that the above ten propositions are true aud cer-
tain is then implied by the methods of science.
Unless we are convinced, and act on the conviction, that
the propositions thus implied are true, science is logically
impossible, and any scientific man who should deny any one
of them would either deceive himself or try to deceive other
people. Without their acceptance it is impossible to have
any consistent, harmonious, and stable system of ordered
knowledge any true science. More than that, if these
ten propositions were really doubted by anyone, he would
thereby necessarily fall into a state of mental paralysis
and intellectual inanition, in all that relates to scientific
knowledge.
Having thus recognised these important convictions,
which find a necessary place amongst the implications of
science, we may next proceed to consider what are the
physical and mental antecedents of all and every science.
A knowledge of such physiological and psychical facts
will serve as an introduction to the study of our highest in-
tellectual powers, the dicta of which can alone enable us to
judge whether we can attain to a knowledge of the ground-
work of science, and, if so, what that groundwork may, or
must, be.
CHAPTER V
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
WE have no experience of knowledge save as consisting
of mental states our own, and those which ob-
servation reveals to us as existing in other minds. We have
no experience of mental states save as immanent in a living
body our own, and those of other living beings. Without
mental states we cannot hope for knowledge, and without
organised knowledge there is no science. The groundwork
of science, as known to us by experience, may so far, there-
fore, be said to be twofold: (i) mental and (2) corporeal.
Granting, for argument's sake, the essential independence
of intellect from all that is material substance, nevertheless
we men, here and now, have no experience whatever of it
apart from matter, apart from living organised matter,
and apart from living matter with a special and definite form
of organisation.
If, then, it should be objected that the groundwork of
science is, and must be, purely intellectual, we can at
least reply that, so far as our actual experience goes,
material conditions a special kind of living organisa-
tion are at least a sine qua non for our apprehension of
such groundwork.
The groundwork of science must be closely related to the
nature of science itself. Now science, as we have seen, is
an organised result of knowledge; knowledge is dependent
108
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE IOQ
on, and called forth by feelings; and feelings area result of
a normal, vital condition of a physical organisation. To un-
derstand fully what is psychical, it is, therefore, generally
necessary to have a certain acquaintance with what is physi-
ological and physical. Moreover, as function depends on
structure, any sufficient comprehension of the vital activities
of our frame necessitates some previous acquaintance with
its physical organisation its anatomy. As we cannot vent-
ure to assume that the great majority erf our readers are
possessed of even a small amount of anatomical and physio-
logical knowledge, we feel it impossible to dispense with
some description of the physical antecedents of science
(readers, however, who do possess such knowledge, and an
elementary knowledge of zoology, had better pass over this
chapter unread), related as they necessarily are to the
groundwork of all science, which it is our ultimate object
to study and endeavour to comprehend.
Very little, however, need be said here, except with re-
spect to that substance and those organs of the body which
are the necessary means by which alone we are capable of
different special feelings and imaginations, or of any feelings
at all.
Feeling, knowledge, thought, everyone knows to be car-
ried on by us only in a living body, which ought to be in a
sufficiently healthy and normal state. Abnormal conditions
may be accompanied by an absence, or paralysis, of one or
more of our senses, or by various forms of mental aberration
down to complete idiocy. In order, therefore, to have a
satisfactory comprehension of our powers of thinking (one
indispensable preliminary for investigating the groundwork
of science), it is necessary to have some knowledge of those
vital functions which are necessary for the exercise of
thought ; and to understand them, as already intimated, we
require to know something of the order and condition of
HO THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
that special mechanism the actions of which so nearly con-
cern us.
To appreciate correctly human thought, it is also necessary
to know something of the psychical powers of living creat-
ures which are not human. Some adequate notion as to
man's place in nature cannot be dispensed with by anyone
who would estimate at their just value the products of
human thought. We have already enumerated the sciences
which deal with living things, 1 and probably no one will dis-
pute the assertion that man, corporeally considered, is a
kind of animal, and that the sciences which relate to animals
generally relate, therefore, to him also.
The multitude of species which compose what is called
the " animal kingdom " is so vast that it would be impos-
sible to study them otherwise than by classifying them in a
number of more and more subordinate groups, each of which
is defined by an enumeration of certain structural characters
which the creatures included in such group possess in com-
mon. It is usual to divide the animal kingdom into two
great groups, the lower of which is made up by creatures
the whole body of each of which is composed of a single cell,
or, at most, a few cells only. Of these creatures, animal-
cules of various kinds, it is not necessary for our present
purpose to say more than a few words. One kind, the
Amceba, may here be mentioned, as it is so often referred
to as closely resembling certain particles (known as the
colourless corpuscles) in human blood. It is a microscopic
creature, consisting of a minute piece of " protoplasm," with
some internal modifications, which protrudes parts of its
body in the form of short, blunt projections, and feeds by
engulfing what it preys on into its body at various parts of
its surface. The bell-animalcule, or Vorticella, may also be
referred to for the following reason : its bell-shaped body
1 See Chapter ii., pp. 24, 32.
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE III
is connected with a fixed point of support by means of an
elongated stem, traversed by a special fibre. At the slight-
est shock this fibre contracts, and throwing the filament
into curves, draws the body of the creature near to the point
of attachment of the filament.
The second division of the animal kingdom consists of
creatures the body of each of which is formed by a multitude
of cells which are aggregated together into, or give rise to,
various kinds of distinct substances, termed " tissues "
such as bone, gristle, muscle, nerve, etc., etc.
The lowest of these many-celled animals are the sponges,
and the cells which compose their bodies are arranged in
two layers.
Next come the zoophytes, or plant-like animals (corals,
sea-anemones, jelly-fishes, etc.), to which succeed the star-
fishes, sea-urchins, and their allies. A multitude of creatures
compose at least two large groups of worms, of which the
leeches and earth-worms may serve as examples of the
higher kinds. We have then an enormous group, Arthro-
poda, which embraces all insects, hundred-legs, scorpions,
spiders, mites, crabs, lobsters, and shrimp-like creatures.
We have, again, a very much less extensive group of Mol-
lusca, which includes all snails, whelks, cuttle-fishes, oysters,
mussels, etc. Lastly we have the group of backboned
animals (fishes, reptiles, birds, and beasts), to which we
ourselves belong. Of beasts, or mammals, there are some
dozen different orders, such as opossums, whales, rats, and
squirrels, cattle, bats, beasts of prey, apes, etc.
The structure of man's body closely resembles that of
the higher apes, while ape and man agree to differ so much
from all other mammals that they may be said to stand, as
it were, on a zoological island by themselves. Thus man,
when only structurally considered, is a species of the order
of apes, though widely differing from most of them.
112 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Such being man's place in nature as regards the structure
of his body, it remains briefly to pass in review the main
facts of that body's organisation.
As everyone knows, the human frame is a very complex
structure : a mass of flesh (composed of a great number of
muscles of different sizes) embracing a skeleton and clothed
with skin the skeleton consisting of the skull, backbone,
ribs, and the bones of the two pairs of limbs. Within the
body are the heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, liver, kidneys,
etc. The skull and backbone together enclose a mass of
soft, white substance the brain and spinal marrow or spinal
cord. Delicate threads of similar substance (nerves) and
tubes of various sizes (vessels) traverse the body in all
directions.
Conditions essentially similar, but differing greatly in
various ways in different groups (thus, e. g., there may be
but two pairs of limbs or none), prevail in all beasts, birds,
and reptiles.
Organs nearly related to each other form what are termed
" systems " of organs. Thus the muscles, each of which is
made up of a mass of fibres, and are of different shapes and
sizes (muscles of the limbs, trunk, head, jaws, etc.), consti-
tute "the muscular system." Muscles are generally at-
tached by their opposite extremities to different bones.
Thus, again, the mouth, stomach, and alimentary canal,
with their appendages, form the " alimentary system " ; the
heart, with all the tubes (arteries, veins, etc.) connected
with it, composes the " circulating system " ; the windpipe
and lungs constitute the " respiratory system " ; the organs
concerned with reproduction are the " generative system " ;
and the brain, spinal cord, and all the nerves of the body
together make up the " nervous system." These groups
of organs are respectively named as above, because they
severally minister to vital actions termed " bodily motion,"
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 113
" alimentation," " circulation," " respiration," " genera-
tion," and " sensation " (or " feeling ").
The functions of alimentation, circulation, respiration, and
generation also take place in plants, and are indispensable
for organic life. Thus they may be said to exist and prepare
the way for development of the higher animal functions of
locomotion and sensation. It is with the last-named func-
tion alone and the organs which serve it the nervous sys-
tem, including its annexed organs of special sense that we
have here to do. Nevertheless, it should be noted that in
order to act properly the organs of the nervous system re-
quire an adequate supply of blood from the circulating
system, which blood must be sufficiently refreshed through
the respiratory system and purified by organs of " secre-
tion," while it must also be adequately supplied with suffi-
cient and appropriate nutritious matter by the alimentary
system. Through an inadequate supply of blood, or
through blood insufficiently nourished, purified, or refreshed,
the actions of the nervous system become perverted or
paralysed till death ensues.
The entire nervous system is divisible into two main parts :
a central and a peripheral portion. The central part con-
sists of the brain and spinal cord, which are directly contin-
uous. Its peripheral part is made of all the nerves of the
body. The spinal cord (enclosed within the backbone) is
divisible into two lateral halves, and nerves, called spinal
nerves, are connected with it symmetrically in pairs (one
right and one left), one nerve to each of its lateral halves.
Each spinal nerve is connected with the spinal cord by two
roots, one anterior in position and the other posterior, and
each root is made up of a number of small bundles of nerve
fibres. The fibres connected with the hinder and the ante-
rior part of each lateral half of the spinal cord, are mixed
and run together into the nerves or rather compose them
114 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
but those connected with its anterior half go especially to
the muscles, while those from its posterior half go especially
to the skin.
Within the spinal cord itself is a mass of longitudinal
nervous fibres and more or less spherical nervous " cells."
The fibres extend upwards and downwards, towards and
from the brain, and are closely connected with the spinal
nerves.
The brain (which is entirely enclosed within the skull,
and is composed of delicate nervous filaments and a multi-
tude of cells) is the expanded summit of the whole nervous
axis, and may be said to consist of three noticeable portions :
(1) The hindmost under part, or medulla, which may be de-
scribed as the expanded upper part of the spinal cord, so
becoming the posterior portion of the base of the brain.
(2) The cerebellum, a rounder, narrowly grooved prominence,
forming the posterior under portion of the brain. (3) The
third part, which is by far the largest, is formed in part by
the continuance forwards and the divergence of the nervous
axis, in part by connection with the cerebellum, and also by
a very large quantity of nervous tissue apparently independ-
ent of either. This whole mass, called the cerebrum, is
divided by a deep, median groove into two lateral halves
the cerebral hemispheres which form the whole of the upper
surface of the brain, and are marked all over by meandering
rounded prominences the convolutions of the brain. The
cerebral hemispheres are deemed to be main agents in oc-
casioning our sensations and imaginations, and it is very
noteworthy that as we have two eyes and two ears, so also
we have two distinct yet similar cerebral organs which are
of such importance. The greater number of the nerves
which proceed from the brain have their origin in the
medulla. This is notably the case with those which go to
the lungs, stomach, and heart. Perhaps the most import-
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 115
ant, for our purpose, of all the structures which make up
our bodily frame, are those organs by the aid of which, in
unison with the brain, we are enabled to have sensations of
different kinds.
The organ of sight consists essentially of an extremely
delicate membrane, the retina, wherein are a multitude of
minute bodies called rods and cones placed side by side, and
lining the rear of the eyeball. The retina is an expansion
of the optic nerve (or nerve of sight), through which it is
directly continuous with the substance of the brain itself.
The eyeball is bounded by a tough spherical case, and
contains within it three transparent media, of different dens-
ities, while it is itself transparent anteriorly. It also con-
tains a mechanism to facilitate vision at different distances,
and its transparent media produce a picture (though an in-
verted picture) of what is opposite the eye, on the posterior
part of the internal lining of the eyeball.
As each eye forms an image of what is opposite it, the
two pictures simultaneously formed in the two eyes slightly
differ from each other. They, of course, must do so,
since each looks out on the world from a different point
of view.
The essential organ of hearing in man (and also in back-
boned animals) consists of most delicate nervous fibres,
which are distributed over a small, complexly shaped mem-
branous bag containing fluid, and itself surrounded by
another fluid, which is enclosed in a cavity (corresponding in
shape to the bag it encloses) in the densest bone of the skull,
some distance within the opening on the surface of the side
of the head, surrounded by that conspicuous projection com-
monly spoken of as " the ear." The nerve of hearing passes
outwards from the brain, traverses a canal through the dense
bone just referred to, which canal gives it entrance into the
cavity wherein lies the membranous structure before men-
Il6 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
tioned, and wherein the ultimate filaments of the auditory
nerve terminate.
The organ of smell is composed of minute terminal fila-
ments of very delicate nerves (olfactory nerves), which pro-
ceed downwards, from two special prolongations of the
brain, to the moist membrane which lines the uppermost
part of the cavity of the nostrils.
The organ of taste also consists of minute nervous fila-
ments, distributed in the tongue and the hinder portion of
the palate, which filaments are derived from two gustatory
nerves, by which the gustatory filaments are brought into
direct connection with the brain, as in the three sense
organs before noticed.
The organ of touch is very widely distributed, consisting
as it does of a multitude of nervous filaments that ramify
and end in the skin, which is, however, very differently sup-
plied by these nerves in different parts, some parts being
much more richly supplied than others. These fibres are
connected with some part of the nervous axis, either the
brain or the spinal cord.
Having gained an elementary acquaintance with the
structure of the human body, and of its component systems
of organs, we have next to consider what those organs and
systems of organs do, what are their functions, and espe-
cially those of the nervous system.
The functions of muscles everyone is in a general way ac-
quainted with, i. e., that their special activity is to produce
motion. To do this they contract, becoming shorter and
thicker, and thus bringing nearer together the two parts to
which the two ends of any muscle may be respectively
attached, and it is by these means that all movements of
the body are effected. Most muscular movements are vol-
untary, but others are independent of the will. Such is the
case with those of the heart and alimentary canal. Some,
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE \\J
like our respiratory movements, ordinarily take place inde-
pendently of our will, but can be performed voluntarily, and
can be voluntarily suspended. Soon, however, the power
of voluntarily restraining them ceases, and they take place
in spite of all our efforts to the contrary. Movements begun
with a voluntary effort may be subsequently carried on
automatically, as we see in setting out for a walk. Such
movements may be carried on much better automatically
than when attended to. Attention often positively impedes
the rapidity and accuracy of our movements, as is easily
seen if we begin to consider what our movements are as we
are running downstairs.
The agents which induce muscular contraction are termed
stimuli. Such are heat, cold, a puncture, a very acrid or
acid substance, electricity, and, normally, the influence of
the nerves supplied to muscles, and emotion and volition
each may be a stimulus. Stimuli physically equal have a
more powerful effect when acting on a muscle through a
nerve than when acting directly on the muscle itself.
We have seen that muscular movements may take place
in us without .any advertence thereto on our part, and, of
course, such actions are quite independent of our will. But
much more wonderful, when we come to think over it, is
the fact that muscular contractions will take place in appro-
priate groups, resulting in co-ordinated movements and
groups of groups of such movements, which not only we do
not will, but which we do not even know ! How wonderful,
when we carefully consider it, is the trivial act of a lad
throwing a stone at a mark! How complex must be the
co-ordinated movements between different parts of the
body in order to produce even such a result! The lad's
mind has little to do with it beyond the one impulse to hit
the mark. He knows nothing of anatomy, but simply sets
going the wonderful mechanism of his body, and this works
Il8 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
out the desired effect for him, just as if it were an elaborate
machine. In the first place, the various movable parts of
his eyes must be so adjusted that he may see the mark dis-
tinctly. Then his body must be held in a proper position,
the stone be grasped with just the right amount of firmness
(that is, certain muscles must be contracted to the proper
amount), the arm must be thrown back to the due extent,
and its muscles contracted, in co-ordination with the move-
ments of the eyes, and with just that degree of vigour which,
as his fingers are relaxed, will carry the stone as he desires
it should go. Thus various complex groups of movements
may be synthesised without our will and without our know-
ledge so as to result in the production of one complex
action of the whole body.
Besides these conspicuous movements, a multitude of
minute ones are continually taking place in the living body
movements which we not only cannot feel but can in no
way perceive in ourselves. They can only be perceived in
animals by making use of various devices, including the use
of the microscope.
We have mentioned the function of alimentation as that
of the system of organs termed alimentary organs which
receive and digest food. But though these organs do in
this way minister to that function, nutrition ultimately takes
place in parts altogether out of reach of all our powers of
observation, consisting as it does in the reception of new
elements into the very ultimate substance of the body the
change of the prepared residuum of the food we have eaten
into our own living flesh and blood, i. e. y assimilation.
That this does take place is absolutely certain, but how it
takes place is an entirely unsolved problem. Moreover, it
is to be noted that this function, so absolutely necessary for
life, takes place in the intimate substance of the body be-
yond the terminal filaments of the ramifying nerves.
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 119
We have spoken of " the circulation " as the function of
the organs which compose the " circulating system." But
over and above that great stream of life there is a minute
circulation which takes place within each smallest particle
of the body's substance (just as it takes place in unicellular
animals), for the sake of which multitudinous microscopic
streamlets the great sanguineous current may be said to
exist.
Respiration consists in the gaseous exchange to which our
breathing organs minister. But it is not in that conspicuous
respiratory process which is evident to our senses that the
process really consists. It is in the minute gaseous inter-
change which takes place in the ultimate and intimate com-
ponents of the body's substance.
Similarly, " secretion " is a process of formation, by
organs, from the blood of products which did not previously
exist as such within it. It is thus analogous to the power
by which the various tissues that compose the body are en-
abled to add to their own substance from the life-stream
which bathes them, though their substance does not exist as
such in that stream. Thus the process of assimilation in
which alimentation culminates is analogous to secretion.
Having thus, in the briefest manner, noticed the most
essential facts concerning various bodily functions, we may
next turn to our special subject in this chapter the func-
tions of the nervous system. In the first place, it is by the
agency of this system that all the other organic activities of
the human body are carried on. Without its aid all nutri-
tion, growth, circulation, respiration, and muscular motion
would not exist, just as its activity would be arrested were
it not nourished by a sufficient supply of duly constituted
blood.
But besides organic activities, this system also ministers
to, and is necessary for, sensation, and, therefore, for know-
120 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
ledge, seeing, once more, that the latter is impossible for us
except as following upon sensation. The nervous system
is thus the special, the only, intermediary between our con-
sciousness and the external world, and the only bridge be-
tween the subjective and all that is objective besides itself.
It both receives the various effects to which the world about
us and our own body can give rise to within it, and which
result in sensations; and it also causes all the movements
which take place in response to stimuli. But it is necessary
to note that it not only acts as an intermediary between
each organ and its environment, through the sensations to
which it gives rise, but also that it so acts without the in-
tervention of sensations. When acted on by external influ-
ences it may, and constantly does, excite corresponding
activities in our body without giving rise to any feeling of
which we are conscious. The special consideration of
sensation itself, its various forms, and their other mental
accompaniments and effects, will be considered in our next
chapter on the psychical antecedents of science ; but sensa-
tion in its physiological aspect, in so far as it is related to
different portions and diverse conditions of parts of the
nervous system, concerns us here and now.
As everyone knows, different parts of the nervous system
have different functions, and the special functions of differ-
ent nerves are partly learned by the. study of their distribu-
tion, and partly by the simplest observations. Thus an
irritation of the nerve which goes to the eye (to the retina)
or to the internal ear, does not produce feeling in the ordinary
sense of that word, but only certain sensations of light or of
sound. The nerves which, as before said, are connected in
pairs with the spinal cord, minister either to sensation or to
motion, according to their distributions and connections.
If one of these nerves be divided, and the part cut off from
the spinal cord be irritated, then motion ceases in the
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 121
muscles to which such nerve is distributed, but no pain
accompanies such irritation. If the part which remains
attached to the spinal cord be irritated, then pain is caused
but not motion. If the so-called posterior root ' of a spinal
nerve alone be severed, the parts supplied with twigs from
such nerve only, lose their power of feeling, but their power
of motion remains. If the anterior root of such a nerve
alone be divided, then the parts supplied by such nerve are
paralysed as to motion, but, nevertheless, retain their sensi-
bility their power of feeling. If the spinal cord itself be
cut or broken through, it is impossible for a man thus injured
to feel any irritation which may be applied to those portions
of his body which are supplied with nerves which are con-
nected with any part of the spinal cord below the point of
injury. Neither can he move such parts by any act of his
will, try as he may. Nevertheless, movements of those very
parts may be produced by stimuli applied to them, of which
he remains entirely unconscious, or which, if by observation
he is aware that they are applied, he has none the less no
feeling whatever, nor can he possibly withdraw any such
part out of reach of the stimulus so being applied. A man
so injured, though he may have entirely lost the power of
feeling any pricks, cuts, or burns applied to such parts, will
none the less execute movements, often in an exaggerated
manner, in response to such stimuli, just as if he did feel
them. He will withdraw his foot if it be tickled just as if
he felt the tickling, which he is incapable of feeling. Such
unconscious movement in response to stimuli which are not
felt is called reflex action, for the following reason : under
ordinary circumstances stimulations of the surface of the
body convey an influence inwards which produces sensation,
and gives rise to an outwardly proceeding influence passing
to the muscles, and resulting in definite appropriate motions.
1 See ante, p. 113.
122 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
The influence inwards appears to travel upwards through
the spinal cord to the brain, and so produces feeling, because
the brain is the main organ of sensation. The influence out-
wards appears to travel downwards from the brain, which is,
ordinarily, the main fundamental agent for producing mo-
tion, and onwards down the spinal cord, and thence to the
muscles, which thus move in response to a surface stimulus
which has been felt. But when the spinal cord has been
divided it becomes no longer possible for such influences to
ascend to the brain (and, therefore, there can be no feeling),
or to descend from the brain (and, therefore, there can
be no voluntary motion). But the unfelt influence travel-
ling inwards is supposed in that case, on reaching the
spinal cord, to be thence automatically reflected outwards.
That such is the case appears to be shown by the fact that
appropriate movements are made in response, but made
without the intervention of the will. Reflex action may
also take place when the body is quite uninjured, as during
sleep, under the influence of chloroform, etc.
But this kind of action is much more strikingly displayed
in some of the lower animals. A frog which has had its
head cut off will yet make with its hind legs appropriate
movements to remove any irritating object applied to the
hinder part of its body. If its skin be touched with some
caustic fluid, one leg will be brought forward so that the
foot may be applied to the irritated spot ; and if that leg be
held, then the other leg will be similarly moved forwards.
A more striking instance of the same power can be obtained
from the same kind of animal at the breeding season. The
male frog has the habit of tightly grasping the female, and
to enable him the more securely to maintain his hold,
a warty prominence becomes developed on the inner side of
each of his fore-feet. Now, if such a male frog be taken,
and not only decapitated, but the whole hinder part of the
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 123
body also removed, so that nothing remains but the
small portion of its trunk from which the two arms, with
their nerves, proceed, and if, under these circumstances,
the warty prominences be touched, the two arms will
then fly together as if they were moved by a spring,
and this remarkable and complex response to a stimulus
must take place altogether without the intervention of
sensation.
But in all these instances of reflex action, the stimulus
applied should be regarded as the occasion, not the cause,
of the movements in question. They must, it seems to us,
be due to powers and energies latent in the organism, which
powers the stimulus serves to make manifest.
Other actions may take place in us which resemble reflex
action in so far as they take place independently of the will,
and, indeed, in spite of all the voluntary efforts we can make,
while yet they differ from reflex action because they occur
as consequences of sensations distinctly felt. We have
already seen how impossible it is for us to impede our
respiratory actions after they have been suspended long
enough to give rise to peculiarly distressing feelings.
Similarly, if an object, not too large, be placed very far
back in the mouth, it must be swallowed, and we cannot
help it. But the presence of the object is all the time dis-
tinctly felt. Such actions are termed ' ' sensori-motor "
actions, to distinguish them from reflex ones in which
sensations do not intervene.
It cannot be doubted that different regions of the brain
are specially connected with our experience of different
sensations, imaginations, and sense-perceptions, and it is
also certain that different parts of it are organs for originat-
ing different motions and combinations of movements. But
though very much has been done towards determining these
connections, a vast deal more remains quite uncertain, and
124 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
for our purpose here, such localisations are indifferent, and
it is enough to note the fact that there are various central
regions which are thus connected with feelings and move-
ments respectively.
What it is especially desirable that the reader should here
carefully note, is the fact that nervous activities which are
accompanied by definite corresponding feelings, shade off,
as it were, into activities which are but occasionally felt,
and into activities which are in no way felt, nor can by any
possibility be felt.
A delicate network of nerves is distributed to the heart,
arteries, intestines, liver, kidneys, etc., which network is
generally spoken of as the ' ' sympathetic system. ' ' Usually
the influences which these nerves exercise do not give rise
to sensations, but under some abnormal conditions of any
of these internal organs, such influences may be felt and be
accompanied by pain.
Another notable fact is that exposure to fresh conditions,
it may be the reception of injuries, may result in very re-
markable results, which cannot have been brought about
without the help of that great co-ordinating system of the
body the nervous system. The thickening of the skin of
the hand constantly employed in hard work, and that of the
muscles of the blacksmith's arm or the dancer's leg, are in-
stances in point ; but most striking of all are the processes
of repair which may take place after injury. Very complex
structures, appropriately formed and nicely adjusted for the
performance of complex functions, may be so developed.
Thus a new elbow-joint has been known to be produced
in a railway guard who was compelled to have his own
cut out as a consequence of an injury he had received.
The new joint served his purpose exceedingly well, he
having soon acquired the power of swinging himself by it
from one carriage to another, while a train was in motion,
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 12$
as easily and securely by means of the newly formed parts
as he could do with his other, uninjured arm.
Processes of repair are far more conspicuous and remark-
able in certain lower animals than they are in man and the
creatures nearly allied to him. The tails of lizards, the legs
of newts, and even the eye, lower jaw, and the front part of
the head of similar animals can be reproduced after removal.
Processes of repair in ourselves take place in perfect un-
consciousness, and our will has no direct control over them ;
but they are directed to a useful end, and are carried on by
vital processes which are practically full of purpose though
their end is altogether unforeseen, because quite unknown
to the patient who benefits by them.
These facts as to unconscious but appropriately purposive
processes of repair naturally lead us to reflect on those
wonderfully appropriate, and seemingly purposive processes
and metamorphoses whereby the embryo is developed, and
the adult condition gradually attained. A description of
such processes does not come within the sphere of the
present work. Indeed, some of our readers may wonder
why we have already said so much respecting merely vital
processes which are not accompanied by sensation, and may,
therefore, well seem altogether foreign to questions of
thought, knowledge, science, and its groundwork.
Nevertheless, they have a distinct reference thereto, as
will almost immediately appear when we come to speak of
instinctive action. But before entering upon that function
a few words must be said concerning our faculty of acquiring
habits.
The power of forming habits has a certain analogy with
reflex action, since it is the result of a power which our
organism possesses to react, within limits, when it is acted
on. Let us consider what a habit is. A " habit " is not
formed by repeating an action a great number of times,
126 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
though it may be much confirmed and strengthened thereby.
If an act performed only once had not in it some power of
generating a habit, then a thousand repetitions of that act
would not generate it. Habit is the determination in one
direction of a previously vague tendency to action. We
possess a natural inclination to activity. Action is not
only natural to us, it is a positive want. Our powers and
energies also tend to increase with exercise and action (up
to a certain limit), while they diminish and finally perish
through a too long repose. Thus a power of generating
" habit " lies hid in all, and in the very first of those actions
which facilitate and increase the general activity and power
of our body, and facilitate and increase the exercise of that
power in definite modes and directions.
This tendency to bodily and mental activity, which under-
lies our acquisition of " habits," is closely allied to that
special form of action which we have above spoken of as
" instinctive action." Instinct, as a feeling, will concern
us in the next chapter, but its physiological and physical
aspects must be noticed here. Instinctive movements differ
from reflex actions in that they are not merely responsive
to a stimulus felt, but respond to that stimulus in such a
manner as to serve a future unforeseen purpose. Such an
action is that of the infant, which, in response to the feeling
produced on its lips by contact with the breast, first sucks
the nipple and then swallows the thence extracted nutriment
with which its mouth becomes filled. It is an action neces-
sary for the nutrition of the infant, and one performed very
soon after birth, when there has been no lapse of time
wherein it could have learned to perform that action. It is
also an action which is definite and precise, and one per-
formed in a similar manner by all infants, though it is
effected by a very complex mechanism, and is performed at
once, prior to all experience. But not only sucking and
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 1 27
deglutition, but also the movements by which the products
of excretion are removed from within the body of the in-
fant, are, in our opinion, essentially instinctive. In later
life various other instinctive actions minister directly or in-
directly to reproduction.
It is an instinct which prompts the female child to seek
adornments for her little body, and to fondle a doll, and
even press it against her breast, whence, when fully de-
veloped, her future baby will draw its nourishment. Later
on, when the time for love and courtship has arrived, in-
stinct leads youths and maidens to seek each other's society,
and tends naturally to induce affectionate feelings and ul-
timately caresses, each of which acts as a further stimulus,
ultimately leading on towards actions indispensable to the
race.
But instinct, as it exists in man, is very feebly and ob-
scurely developed, compared with the manifestations of that
faculty which may be met with in various of the lower
animals, and especially amongst insects. Chickens will,
very soon after they are hatched, peck at small objects,
grains, and insects, and but little later will at once per-
form, when they come in contact with water, the move-
ments for making it flow over their backs and fall off. 1
Some birds will feign lameness, or some other injury, to
draw off attention from their eggs or young. Birds of the
first year, when the time of migration arrives, are often the
earliest to depart, and duly accomplish their journey, though
they can have no knowledge of the route they have to
pursue, or the region it is the object of their journey to
attain.
Snakes taken out of their mother's body just before their
natural birth will even then threaten to strike, and, if rattle-
1 For an admirable account of such phenomena, see Habit and Instinct, by
C. Lloyd Morgan, F.G.S.
128 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
snakes, to rattle, or at least rapidly vibrate the end of the
tail.
Ichneumon flies will lay their eggs within the bodies of
caterpillars, that they may find abundant suitable food when
they are hatched, but we cannot believe that they foresee
the purpose and practical utility of their action.
A kind of wasp, called " sphex," provides for the nutri-
tion of her unhatched young in an analogous but yet more
remarkable manner. She will hunt about till she finds a suit-
able caterpillar, grasshopper, or spider, which she adroitly
stings on the spot which induces, or on the several spots
which induce, complete paralysis, so as to deprive it of all
power of motion, but not to kill it, as to kill it would defeat
her purpose. This done, she stores away the helpless victim
along with her eggs, in order that when her eggs are hatched
the grubs which issue from them may find living animal food
ready for them and in a suitable state of helplessness ; for
were they not in such a state, the grubs would be utterly
unable to catch, retain, and prey upon them. The species
of sphex which preys on the grasshopper first stings it and
then throws it on its back, so as to get at the delicate mem-
brane which unites the pieces of its hard armour at their
joints. This it bites through to reach a specially enlarged
portion of nervous tissue there concealed, by mutilating
which it attains its practical but surely unforeseen end.
But if the adult insect cannot reasonably be supposed to
understand the future conditions of its unborn young which
it will never see, still less can the poor grub be expected to
understand what will be the future conditions of its own life
when it is a grub no longer conditions so utterly different
from those of which it has had any experience. Yet many
species of caterpillar form cocoons in modes and places most
suitable for their protection and for their own easy emerg-
ence when they have changed into the adult form. The
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 129
caterpillars of a moth found in Africa will unite their efforts
to form a great, as it were, common cocoon, within which
external envelope each caterpillar makes its own special
cocoon, but which are so skilfully arranged as to leave pass-
ages between them to facilitate their departure when, as
moths, the time has come for them to fly away.
The caterpillar of the emperor moth is described as spin-
ning for itself a double cocoon, but leaving an opening
fortified with elastic bristles pointing outwards, and so
directed that while they readily yield to pressure from
within, they firmly resist pressure from without. Thus the
caterpillar is at the same time both protected from intrusion
from outside, and enabled easily to obtain its own exit when
fully developed.
As an example of the blindness which characterises these
instinctive actions, we may refer to a kind of wasp which
does not enclose living food with her eggs, but from time to
time feeds the grubs which thence emerge with fresh food,
visiting her nest for that purpose at suitable intervals, She
covers her nest so carefully with sand that it is completely
hidden, and this covering is replaced with equal care after
each of her visits. While it remains thus hidden she, it is
said, can always find it; but if an entrance is made ready
for her, this, instead of helping her to get to her young,
seems to puzzle her completely, and even to prevent her
from recognising her own offspring.
But, as everyone knows, moths and butterflies habitually
lay their eggs on the leaves of such plants as will form
suitable food for the grubs when hatched, although the
parents themselves neither feed on such leaves nor make any
other use of them than that of serving as a receptacle for
their eggs. It may be that the parents are insects which,
in the adult condition, do not feed at all, and it is incredible
that they foresee the use to their unhatched young of leaves
I3O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
useless to themselves, and the past utility of which to the
grubs they once were, they cannot be supposed to remember.
Still more incredible is it, however, that a grub should
foresee the shape of the body it is destined later to acquire,
especially when this shape is widely different in the two
sexes. Yet the grub of the female stag-beetle, when she
digs the hole wherein she will undergo her metamorphosis,
digs it no bigger than her own body ; whereas the grub of
the male stag-beetle makes a hole twice as large as his own
body, in order to leave room for the enormous jaws (the so-
called " horns ") which he will have to grow.
One more example of that function of the nervous system
which results in instinct must here suffice.
There is a kind of beetle, called " sitaris," which is para-
sitic on certain bees, while its relation to those insects is
very different during the very different stages of existence
which make up its life-history.
It is hatched from eggs which the mother sitaris lays in
passages in the bees' nest. Instead of being in the form
of a grub (as is the case with beetles generally), it comes
forth from the egg as an active, six-legged little insect with
eyes and two long " feelers," or antennae. In the spring,
as the male bees (drones) pass out for their nuptial flight
with the queen, the sitaris attaches itself to one of them,
and as soon as the opportunity offers, passes from it to the
body of the queen bee. When, afterwards, the queen bee
lays her egg in the hive, the sitaris springs upon it, and is
unsuspectingly enclosed in a cell with the honey destined to
nourish the bee-grub when the queen's egg is hatched.
Thus left alone with the egg, the sitaris devours it, and
then undergoes a transformation in the empty egg-shell.
Having been active in the earliest stage of its life it assumes
the helpless form of a fleshy grub, which floats on the honey
and gradually consumes it. Afterwards it transforms itself
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 131
once more, and regaining six legs, emerges as a peaceful
beetle, and so with its egg begins again the cycle of this
species' strange life-history.
All these various forms of instinctive action consist of move-
ments which take place in response to feelings which have
been given rise to, and which are often, in part, feelings of
antecedent actions, which are the earlier, or the earliest,
stages of the whole instinctive process. An interruption of
the normal course of procedure will sometimes greatly im-
pair or render impossible the completion of the entire action
as we saw in the case of the wasp, the carefully concealed
entrance to whose nest was laid bare. They thus have a cer-
tain analogy with sensori-motor action, 1 which only differs
from reflex action because of the intervention of sensation,
and so might be called a sensuous-reflex action of an organ,
or system of organs, which so react on felt stimuli.
But in both insentient and sensuous-reflex action there is
a spontaneous response to a stimulus, and a response which
is more or less appropriate at the time of its occurrence,
but which certainly has no reference to future events, which
are to occur long after every trace of the stimulus has
disappeared.
The very essence of instinct, however, is that it provides
for a more or less distant future, often, as in the case of
various instincts of insects hereinbefore noticed, for the
wants of a succeeding generation, which will never be known
to the creature that performs the instinctive actions without
which the new generation could never come into being.
Instinct is essentially telic (i. e., is directed to a definite
end), and refers to circumstances future and unforeseen at
the time the instinctive action takes place. Moreover, the
actions which are instinctive, are actions not of this or that
organ, but they are rather the reactions of the whole animal
1 See ante, p. 123.
132 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
in response to its environment. But though we cannot ex-
plain " instinct " by reflex action, insentient or sensuous,
there is, as we have said, a certain analogy and, we may
add, an affinity between all three. Indeed, all animal life
is reflex in the widest sense of that term ; for all vital actions
result, and are a reaction, from stimuli (internal or external),
which are either felt or not felt. The effects of stimuli,
moreover, differ according to what it is they stimulate. The
ultimate particles of the innermost substance of man's body,
like the minute particles which form the whole body of
unicellular animals, react upon the stimulus of a certain de-
gree of heat, moisture, or chemical action. The different
tissues ' ' which compose the bodies of multicellular animals
and of our own body, react more or less differently under
similar circumstances, as the science of the physiology of
the tissues shows us. The different organs and systems of
organs all react according to the composition of each, and
the study of their reactions is physiology as ordinarily
understood. Similarly, the entire body of a living creature
reacts as one whole in response to influences brought to bear
upon it. This we see in the hibernation, or winter sleep, of
bats and hedgehogs ; in the effects of violent emotions of
fear and anger, and in the results of sexual and reproductive
influences upon the whole organism. The activities and
reactions of the whole body of an animal including the
process of its individual development form a separate de-
partment of the study of animal functions, and may be
called " the physiology of organisms considered each as an
entire whole."
Now it is a generally admitted principle in biology that
structure and function vary together, and the various actions
of the several organs of animals depend upon the properties
of the parts which act. So also the activities of each animal as
one whole, and the sum of the actions it habitually performs
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 133
its habits and instincts are closely related to its struc-
ture. They may thus be said to be sensuous reflex actions
not of. this or that organ, but of each animal as a whole, and
so instinct may be explained as a form of reflex action in
the highest and widest sense of that term. But it must not
be forgotten that the actions which instinct prompts are not
absolutely invariable. They are modifiable to a certain ex-
tent by circumstances, through such powers of perception as
different animals may possess. The absence of accustomed
objects and the presence of others in their place, may lead
birds in abnormal conditions to build their nests in un-
wonted ways. Similarly, many creatures may be led, by the
pressure of adverse circumstances, to seek their food in ways
different from those which beings of their species usually
employ. In this we seem to see the action of a cognitive
power of some sort co-operating with and modifying the
promptings of instinct. But however much it may now and
again be modified, it is clear (from the facts to be noted as
to human infancy, the earliest stages of existence in in-
dividual beasts and birds, and, above all, from the instinct-
ive activities of insects) that there are courses of continuous
action to which animals are prompted by an internal spon-
taneous impulse, which impulse is blind as to the beneficial
consequences of the actions it induces.
Instinct, then, would seem to be a special internal tend-
ency to perform blindly a series of definite and useful actions.
It cannot be insentient reflex action, neither can it be what we
have termed the sensuous reflex action of an organ or system
of organs. It must be more : it must be the sensuous reflex
action proper to an individual animal as one whole, or, as
we have before said, the highest and most complex kind
of all reflex action, " the reflex action of the individual."
The facts and considerations brought forward in the
present chapter, not only show us that various material
134 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
conditions are conditions indispensable for science, because
they are conditions indispensable for sensation, but also
make it clear what admirable results may proceed from
causes seemingly most inadequate.
The different " tissues " of our body are so combined as
to form efficient " organs," different sets of which are com-
bined into systems the activities of the tissues, organs, and
systems harmoniously resulting in the performance of those
vital functions which characterise and compose the life-
history of each kind of animal.
The various vital functions of the body take place in the in-
timate recesses of our frame quite unperceived, and in a man-
ner in no way directly controllable, by us. Yet these func-
tions are so admirably interrelated that their common result,
under normal conditions, is continuous and prolonged life.
Similarly, the intimate processes of repair after injury can
neither be perceived nor directly controlled, though their
outcome is the practical fulfilment of an indisputably desir-
able end, and yet more is this evident as regards the pro-
cesses of embryonic development. In pure reflex action we
have a clear example of the close dependence of the actions,
and even the practically purposive actions, of animals, on
the structure a#id function of their nervous system ; while in
sensori-motor action, habit, instinct as fixed, and instinct
slightly modifiable by cognition, we meet with a gradual
transition from actions in which the will has no sway, and
which need not be even matters of cognition, to acts which
are results of a cognitive process, and are more or less vol-
untary in character.
Instinct is a result a practically purposive and highly in-
telligent result of an impulse which is blind and, so to
speak, mechanical. But we shall have, in the next chapter,
to revert to the question concerning the nature of instinct.
So we think no more need be said here upon that subject.
THE PHYSICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 135
More remarkable still are the results produced by means
of those structures we term " organs of sense." Were we
pure intelligences devoid of bodies and ignorant of the char-
acteristic psychical endowments of animals, there is nothing
in an eye which could lead us to suppose that the inverted
picture thrown upon the backs of a pair of them could enable
their possessor to see real external objects, and to see them
upright and single, and not inverted and double, as they
are in each man's pair of eyes. Of course, the mere eyes
could not see apart from the brain or apart from the brain's
rich supply of duly conditioned blood, etc. Where sight
takes place, who knows ? The exact nature of the relation
of the brain and its parts to actual visual cognition, who can
tell ? Moreover, as we have seen, the brain is double as
well as the organ of sight. But the practical outcome of an
organisation so incomprehensible in its innermost nature is
none the less satisfactory. That the perception of the eyes
is valid, and the cognitions it affords are true, can be shown
by comparing small solid objects apprehended by our sight
with the same objects as known to us by the use of our
hands. Not that we have any ground for considering our
physical means of sight less perfect than any other possi-
ble physical means any organ which was not an eye for ob-
taining a visual knowledge of objectivity. No such means,
which we can in any way imagine, could appear better
adapted or less mysterious, because every psychical result
of physical antecedents is most absolutely mysterious. But
we can hence obtain at least one practical lesson the
lesson, namely, that because we do not know how our bodily
organisation enables us to obtain a real and true knowledge
of what is objective, we can be none the less sure that it
does enable us to obtain valid cognition of that kind, and
one about which we are certain.
Similarly, our two ears enable us to apprehend the exist-
136 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
ence of single external bodies possessing energies which
translate themselves into sensations of sound, as we say, in
our ears, though, for all we can determine, " in our brain "
might be an expression more in accordance with reality.
For our purpose, however, such distinctions are of no ac-
count. What is of account what relates to considerations
which, later on, will concern us much is the undeniable
fact that true and valid cognition are produced by means
which, save for familiar experience, we should not, a priori,
regard as having any capacity, or being at all likely, to pro-
duce them.
It also concerns us to note that there is a gradual trans-
ition in each of us from vital processes performed altogether
beyond the terminations of the nerves, in the most intimate
parenchyma of the body, through unfelt nervous activities
and nervous activities only sometimes felt, on to acts which
are distinctly felt and voluntarily performed. Thus, in
addition to our known actions and those corporeal activi-
ties which are only occasionally felt, there is an energy
operating throughout the body by the intimate activities of
which its vitality is ultimately and mainly sustained, and
through which entirely unfelt responses are constantly made
to received impressions, which never can be perceived, and
ever remain beyond the domain of consciousness.
We have in this chapter been mainly occupied about ques-
tions of structure, together with the vital energies such
structures subserve. We have been compelled to treat
somewhat of feelings and cognitions, as forming part of the
energies resulting from such structures. But in the next
chapter the psychical energies of sensation, imagination, and
sense-cognition will be our principal object, though we shall
incidentally revert, now and again, to matters of structure
and organisation, as we have had here to take some notice,
by anticipation, of facts of feeling and cognition.
CHAPTER VI
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
THE time has now come to leave behind us, as far as may
be, questions of mere physics and physiology, and turn
our attention to what concerns the declarations of our own
consciousness with respect to our feelings and cognitions.
Our present task, then, is to begin that process of intro-
spection which, in the first chapter of this work, 1 we declared
to be indispensable, and though, at first, somewhat repug-
nant to beginners, yet soon made easy by a little patient
perseverance.
Psychical facts can of course be directly known to us only
through such introspection only through consciousness.
On this account consciousness itself must be somewhat
considered here, although, as one of our higher psychical
faculties, its special place is in our next chapter but one.
Consciousness is one of those things which can neither be
defined nor made known by description. Any being who
did not already possess it if we can conceive of a being
who could know other things but not himself could never
be made to comprehend it by any description or definition
whatever. Consciousness is, for each of us, both an ulti-
mate fact and an ultimate abstract truth. As an ultimate
fact, it is that actual concrete knowledge of ourselves in the
act of having some feeling or experience a knowledge, the
1 See ante, p. 5.
137
138 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
absolute certainty of which is absolutely unquestionable.
It is a fact which, being ultimate, is necessarily not only
undefinable and indescribable, but also inexplicable. We
know, as a fact, that we are conscious, but how that fact
comes about we know no more than we know the " how "
of any other ultimate " that " e. g., " how " it is that
"extended" bodies are extended, or "how" it is that
" motion " is a possibility, or " how " it is we can have any
knowledge at all.
As an abstract truth, as a universal, 1 consciousness is the
ideal perception which the mind gains by abstraction from
its experience of concrete conscious states of its own being.
Such abstract consciousness, like all other abstractions, is, of
course, only an idea, and has no real existence except in that
actual living consciousness of an individual conscious being,
which is the foundation of the idea.
Consciousness constantly attends our normal waking life,
though, of course, it is but rarely that we are expressly con-
scious of our consciousness. We only become so by turning
back the mind and saying, " Now I know that I am con-
scious." That is reflex consciousness. But, like all our
other ordinary mental acts, it is accompanied by direct
consciousness.
Had we not true and valid knowledge in our direct
consciousness, without the need of turning back the mind
and reflecting thereon, we could never have any knowledge
at all ; for we should have to go through a regressus ad
infinitum to obtain it in other words, we never could
obtain it.
When we do turn back the mind and reflect on our ex-
perience, we become aware (with special attention to the
fact as a fact) expressly of what we may be doing, as when
we are playing golf, or engaged in any other amusement or
1 See ante, p. 6.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 139
occupation whatsoever. Thus, consciousness seems to be
normally, in its very essence, continuous, and, while exist-
ing at each instant, to be aware (directly or reflexly) of its
persistence of its continuity. We each of us know and are
conscious, not only that we are actually doing whatever we
may be about (as, for example, the reader while reading this
passage is aware that he is reading it), but also that before
we began to read it we were doing something else. But
what still remains to be said about consciousness we shall
reserve for a future chapter. Here it is only necessary to
recognise the facts: (i) that we know and are conscious of
our mental states, and (2) that when we are conscious that
we have a thought or feeling, it is absolutely certain
that we really have it ; (3) that in being thus conscious of our
present feeling, we both know it as a feeling, and therefore
something so far objective as it is an object of thought;
and (4) also that this feeling is something we are actually
feeling, and therefore so far subjective. In this act of per-
ception, then, subject and object appear to be identified ;
but this will be further considered later on. What, then,
does this absolutely trustworthy and infallible witness tell
us about our own psychical states ? Turning our mental
eye inwards, and considering our experiences by a process
of introspection, what does it tell us concerning the question
as to whether any mental states can exist, as it were, beside
consciousness states, the past existence of which, conscious-
ness can by some means become fully aware of as having
certainly existed ?
It is unquestionable that our consciousness can and does
inform us of the existence of very different kinds of psychi-
cal experience. Thus it tells us of our very distinct feelings
of colour, sound, smell, taste, and touch; or sometimes that
we have feelings of exerting force, or undergoing pressure;
also that we have feelings which are simultaneous and others
I4O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
which are successive, etc. Besides all these feelings and
others allied to them, our consciousness also tells us that we
have a multitude of cognitions of very different kinds, some
of which are direct perceptions of external objects, others of
the force of arguments, or of the evidence of axioms, or the
truth of intellectual principles. Now in our visual percep-
tion of the world about us, our consciousness informs us
that we perceive at any one time a certain small portion of
our field of vision with special distinctness, but that around
this portion, receding on all sides, are visual perceptions
which become more and more indistinct and, as it were,
" out of focus." Similarly, in our musical experience, we
hear with great distinctness a series of sounds as they suc-
ceed each other, as also that they gradually fade as they re-
cede from the present into the past ; while, if we are listening
to a more or less familiar melody, the notes which are about
to be heard become anticipated, so that past, present, and
future may be more or less truly present to the mind simul-
taneously. Similarly, once more, in all that we attend to,
there is always some part of what our mind is occupied
about which is apprehended with special distinctness, while
other matters more or less nearly related thereto are cognised
with various inferior degrees of clearness of perception.
Whatever might be the case in this respect with a creature
all intellect, and independent of material conditions, such,
it would seem, must be the case with beings like ourselves.
It must be so, because all our most abstract ideas require to
be attended and supported by mental images or phantas-
mata, which have been derived from the actual experiences
our senses have gained from material things. Since also
material things, and therefore our imaginations of them,
can only be attended to with the greatest keenness piece-
meal and in succession, it cannot be otherwise with the
intellectual considerations they minister to and support.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 141
The recognition of these facts naturally leads us to the
consideration of two other very important facts to which
our consciousness gives distinct testimony. These are^i)
that past experiences will often rise up in our minds, and (2)
that experiences yet to come may also be anticipated. We
have both powers of memory and of anticipation. Thus it
is we have a power of faintly reviving complex groups of
past sensations, and so forming mental images, or imagina-
tions, of persons we have known, scenes we have witnessed,
etc. ; and we have also the power not only of thus imagining
the past, but also what is, or may be, yet to come. We
thus also become fully aware that we can (as pointed out in
the first chapter) apprehend certain degrees of likeness and
of difference, and can cognise ' ' relations. ' ' l We can also be
only too sure we have sometimes feelings of pain as well as
of pleasure, which appear to us external in origin, as well
as internal pleasurable and painful feelings accompanied
with anticipations or recollections feelings which we dis-
tinguish as emotions and desires. Yet other mental states
are also clearly known to us which may, or may not, ac-
company the last-named feelings e. g., states which we
term " volitions."
Thus consciousness, in examining the mind which is con-
scious, perceives its perceptions, feelings, and activities with
differences of intensity and of other qualities. But con-
sciousness/ through memory, also shows us as will shortly
be pointed out that we have had experiences without
advertence and vague cognitions of presence, absence, and
relations of various kinds, to which consciousness at the
time did not attend, so that we were unconscious of parts
of our mental affections not that we were not conscious
when we were so affected, but that our attention was other-
wise occupied. It is, of course, impossible for us directly to
1 See ante, pp. 8 and 91.
142 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
perceive these unconscious psychical processes, because
whatever we direct our mental gaze upon becomes thereby
in the very focus of consciousness. Nevertheless, by the
aid of memory and reasoning, we may plainly perceive that
we have passed through such unconscious psychical states.
It is very desirable that we should endeavour to recognise
and distinctly draw out, through the assurance of our con-
sciousness, that we must have had certain mental modifi-
cations which we did not advert to at the time when our
senses were being thus acted upon and were receiving such
impressions.
Before proceeding to do so, however, we desire to recall
to the reader's mind, yet once more, our representation ' of
the distinction which exists between feelings and ideas, as
also that ideas cannot exist for us, unless ministered to and,
as it were, supported by mental images, that is, by feelings
of the imagination. These two facts may help us to under-
stand how it is that, although we have no ground to regard
our mind as other than a perfect unity, it yet has two orders
of mental powers. There are two kinds of mental activity :
(i) those allied to the sensations which are the means of
perception, but which consciousness does not advert to when
it perceives an object; (2) those allied to the intellectual
perceptions to which such sensations and imaginations min-
ister. A great number of mental facts mental processes
may be grouped around each of these two kinds 'of mental
affection. Those which are allied to feelings and imagina-
tions constitute our lower mental faculties ; while those allied
to our intellectual perceptions are our higher ones. No one,
probably, will question that a process of conscious reasoning
and a perception of the truth of an axiom are higher mental
processes than mere feelings of colour, warmth, or sweetness.
This distinction between our higher and lower mental
1 See ante, pp. 10-13.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 143
powers, though it has been so long and so generally neglected,
we believe to be one of the most profound and important
truths in psychology, and one the recognition of which is
absolutely necessary for everyone who would attain to a
sound and reasonable philosophy.
But as we are intellectual and conscious beings, we should
expect that every lower mental process would, in us, be
more or less modified by our higher nature, through the
existence of which alone we can (through reflection) ever
become aware of the existence of any such lower mental
process. As to animals, we can have no psychical experi-
ence of any creature's mind but our own. Nevertheless,
observation, experiment, and inference, in combination,
may suffice to give us a trustworthy assurance that faculties
like our lower psychical powers exist in them, and that they
are, or are not, sufficient to account for all their actions, how-
ever rational such actions may, at first sight, appear to be.
As a familiar illustration of this distinction to which we re-
fer as existing in ourselves, may be mentioned a circumstance
which has, perhaps, happened to many of our readers as it
has repeatedly happened to ourselves. In walking along a
street with consciousness absorbed by some train of thought,
it may suddenly strike us. that we had passed a house over
the shop-window of which there was a remarkable, or a
familiar, name, and then, turning back, find that our sus-
picion was justified. We may thus see that we had ex-
perienced sensations, grouped together into a mental image,
but which, so far as we can perceive, never rose into con-
sciousness. Again, we may set out to visit a friend at a
residence well known to us, and our consciousness, absorbed
as in the former case, may not serve to make us recognise
the familiar spot we were seeking, and we may only be awak-
ened to the fact that we have passed it by, through a check
to our career given by some passing vehicle. But while we
144 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
have thus been walking in reverie, our senses, though not
our intellect, have been awake to all the conditions which
were necessary to enable us to walk without accident through
peopled streets, with repeated steppings down and up kerb-
stones, and other similar movements. Each turning, each
crossing, may have been accurately effected, and though we
had no consciousness of the several objects which passed
before our eyes, yet we must have felt them and had an un-
conscious sensuous cognition of them, or they never could
have served to guide us safely along our path.
Once more, let us suppose the case of a young lady play-
ing with perfect facility on the piano a difficult but well-
practised piece of music. While she is playing it, she talks
to a gentleman she thinks likely to " propose " to her.
Her consciousness is absorbed in attending to his words,
his tone, and manner, with mental side-glances as to fortune,
temper, and other matters. Yet she need never stumble in
her performance, or fail in exactitude as to the force of
stroke or prolongation of pressure to be applied to the dif-
ferent keys ; indeed, were she to direct her attention thereto,
the perfection of her execution might be thereby impaired
just as (once more) running up and down stairs may be im-
peded by the express direction of attention to the movements
necessary to effect it. Most persons who can play melodies
on the ,piano " by heart," know how, when they fail in any
familiar passage, the worst thing they can do is to think
what the order of the forgotten series of notes should be,
and that their best course is to turn their mind away to
something else while they try to play it unconsciously and
automatically. In other words, the melody is recalled by
avoiding the use of the intellect and trusting to the sensuous
association which has been formed between successive notes,
and which has become, as it were, embodied in the nerves
and muscles of the pianist.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 145
And here it seems desirable to point out the differences
which exist between our higher and our lower mental facul-
ties as regards " memory."
Memory is sometimes said to be a faculty which revives
past feelings and ideas. But any number of feelings or ideas
which might be revived and so once more felt or thought,
would not constitute true memory unless they were recog-
nised as having existed before, and as relating to the past.
Nevertheless, reason shows us that our being must somehow
have powers through which past feelings and imaginations
can be retained and revived without their appearance in
consciousness.
Now two feelings, which have been experienced by us
successively or simultaneously, may be so closely associated
that on the recurrence of one, the other may recur also. It
is natural to us thus to associate feelings and imaginations
which have been frequently experienced together. Thus
groups, and groups of groups, of such mental states may
become associated and will recur as just stated, and this may
take place anterior to, or without any intellectual advertence
to the ideas such associated feelings may occasion and serve
to support. Thus the sound of a dinner-bell, or the sight
of an expanded umbrella, may instantly arouse in our minds
associated mental images of food or of rain. It is not only
that we know, by an intellectual cognition, that the bell is a
call to dinner, or that the umbrella has been opened on ac-
count of rain. These cognitions of the intellect we may, of
course, have, but the associated mental images may be called
up before them and persist, sometimes to our annoyance,
after them; the notes of a melody familiar in times long
past may arouse vivid mental images and keen emotions re-
lating to the days of our youth, and even a mere perfume
will sometimes have a similar effect. How true it is that
these lower mental states can exist apart from intellectual
146 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
cognition is proved by the fact that even idiots may some-
times have their emotions similarly aroused.
Such revivals of past feelings, unrecognised as such, can-
not, as before said, be properly called memory, but, except
for not being recognised, they closely resemble it, and may
therefore be distinguished as examples of what may be
termed " sensuous memory," or the memory of the imagina-
tion. It is this lower power which lies at the base of our
true intellectual powers of memory and reminiscence, and it
is by its aid, as we believe, that we are able to carry on
during those unconscious states of reverie and " absent-
mindedness " the actions we have above noted. It is by
associated groups, and groups of groups, of feelings and
imaginations, that we are enabled so practically to cognise
objects in a merely sensuous way that such complex actions
can be performed without intellectual advertence.
In our next chapter we shall inquire whether animals, by
the use of faculties analogous to our lower mental powers
only, may not be enabled to do a variety of seemingly
rational actions without consciousness, and therefore without
knowing that they do them. We, being intellectual creat-
ures, cannot (as before observed) know that we have these
lower faculties save by the intervention of the higher save
by introspection, the interrogation of consciousness, and
a consciousness of at least much of our environment. But
we can, through observation and memory, be sure that we
must occasionally have cognised objects with merely sensu-
ous cognition and without consciousness. And since we can
always argue that what has actually happened must be at
least a possible thing, we may also be sure that merely
sensuous cognition is possible, since we must really have
had it. Without such cognitions the actions above noted
as taking place during reverie and absence of mind could
never be performed.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 147
And the facts we noted in our last chapter ought to make
the occurrence of such merely sensuous actions easy of com-
prehension, because they have much resemblance to those
acts of sensuous reflex action and those instinctive actions
which were therein described.
But since such complex instinctive actions, and actions
resulting from sensuous cognition, are the action of the body
as a whole, and as the sensations which give rise to such
sensuous cognitions are often feelings produced by very
different sense organs by sights and sounds, feelings of
touch, pressure, etc. they must clearly be referred to, and
receive responses from, some common sensorium.
Now in the cases referred to, consciousness is not called
into play, but is otherwise occupied, and in consequence we
require a term to denote such a faculty and sensorium in
ourselves and in animals, at least in such as all would agree
have not intellectual consciousness. It has then been sug-
gested to denote that lower psychical faculty, that meeting
together of sensuous impulses of the most diverse kinds, by
the term Consentience.
Sometimes, as both in reverie and a state of absorbed
attention to some object, our minds are in a condition in
which all the direct consciousness of our being seems to be
suspended, and we have but a vague feeling of our existence
a feeling resulting from the unobserved synthesis of all
the various sensations and impressions we may then be
subject to. Such a blending of feelings is a form of con-
sentience, and it is by this faculty that the unconscious
sleep-walker receives and accurately responds to the varied
impressions which surrounding objects make on his organs,
and by it also the idiot makes such responses, as he may be
able to make, to similar impressions. It is to consentience
again that the ability to perform many instinctive actions is
due.
148 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
In many of our rational actions, which consciousness
knows and can analyse, we can by attention detect the
merely sensuous elements of our cognitions. These ele-
ments might be expected to be capable of producing in
lower natures in mere animals acts apparently intelligent,
but which are not really so.
Thus we may recognise the presence of feelings of self-
activity or passivity accompanying our perceptions of those
states. When we draw our hand over a foreign body or
grasp it, we may detect one such feeling underlying our
perceptions, and both at once, when rubbing the hands
together or when struggling against a violent wind.
Similarly, a variety of sensations, real and imagined,
underlie our perceptions of succession, extension, position,
shape, size, number, and motion, and can, with a little
care, be easily detected and discriminated. Thus as we feel
the series of sensations of contact when the links of a chain
are drawn across the hand, we have feelings corresponding
with succession and motion. When handling a solid cube
we have feelings related to extension, shape, size. Again,
in a multitude of actions for example, in climbing up a
bank we have feelings relating to " relative position," and
we may also acquire such by merely drawing our hand from
the ankle upwards to the thigh. Of course, we have no
feeling of succession itself or of the other abstract ideas
above mentioned, but we have feelings which specially cor-
respond with all of those ideas just referred to. Such
feelings as serve to guide the footsteps of the unconscious
sleep-walker, might well be sufficient to direct the move-
ments of any creatures which were richly endowed with
feeling, but denied the power of intellect.
Similarly, we have feelings closely connected with percep-
tions of agreement or disagreement, and others which ac-
company surprise or doubt. Let us suppose that we grasp
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 149
an artificial orange so made as not only to look, but also to
feel, like a real orange, and that we cut it, and to our surprise
find its interior to be very different from what we expected
it to be. Thereupon we have, of course, our intellectual
perception of the fact, but we also have a certain feeling of
" shock," which accompanies our surprise at making the
discovery. Similarly, if the nature of an object seems to
us doubtful, we have a feeling of " suspended action " ac-
companying our state of intellectual doubt. If the object
turns out to be what we supposed, as we discover it we have
a simultaneous feeling of " smooth and easy transition "
along with our perception that our anticipation has been
fulfilled. If it should turn out otherwise, then, as we per-
ceive the disagreement, we have a feeling somewhat like
that which we get from a suddenly arrested motion.
Thus by the occurrence of different sensations and differ-
ent combinations with imaginations by the association of
sensations, imaginations, feelings of pain or pleasure with
those of activity, passivity, succession, extension, figure,
magnitude, unity, multiplicity, motion, and rest we come
to have most varied complex groups of feelings correspond-
ing with states of the world about us and of ourselves.
These groups of groups of feelings underlie and accompany
our intellectual perceptions, on which account they may be
termed " sensuous-cognitions," or " sense-perceptions,"
since they may produce practical results resembling those of
intellectual cognitions and perceptions in any creature
capable of feeling them, but devoid of consciousness.
If we reflect on these sensuous cognitions with the asso-
ciations which may be established between feelings, as evi-
denced by the effects of merely sensuous memory, we shall
see that merely sensuous mental states may bear a notable
resemblance, practically, to true inference.
When different groups of feelings have become intimately
150 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
associated, then, on the occurrence of one group, an imagin-
ation of the other group will arise in the mind, and we
have an " expectant feeling " of their proximate actual re-
currence as we may have an expectant feeling of orange
pulp when cutting the artificial orange.
This expectant imagination of feelings yet to come, has a
decided analogy with reasoning and inference, although
quite distinct and unlike them essentially. Very noticeable
also is that feeling of wondering expectancy which will arise
when some strange sound is heard, or some startling move-
ment seen, followed by a feeling of complacency when an
innocent cause of either comes in view.
Such feelings are the sensuous accompaniments of an in-
tellectual search for a cause followed by its satisfactory
detection.
Strong feelings, and especially strong emotions, tend to
manifest themselves externally, not only without our know-
ledge and intention, but against our utmost efforts, when we
become conscious of such manifestations. Thus terror and
anger show themselves by external signs, which express
feelings, not ideas, and so may be said to constitute a " lan-
guage of emotion."
Such unintellectual language manifests itself, as we have
just said, " by external signs." This is quite true in one
sense, yet, without further explanation, the assertion may
be misleading, as the word " sign" is used in two very
different meanings.
A " sign," in the full sense of that term, is a token or de-
vice addressed to eye or ear, depicting by some external
manifestation an internal, abstract idea, and made use of
with the intention of conveying to another mind the idea or
ideas in the mind of the sign-maker.
Yet a sign may be truly such, though quite in another
way. Thus the external contortion of the features in terror,
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 151
or screams or verbal exclamations, are truly signs to onlook-
ers of the feeling of the terror-stricken person. But as the
latter has not contorted his features or uttered sounds with
the intention of making his terror known, it can be nothing
but an accidental sign.
Yet, again, a sign may be made with the object of attract-
ing attention so far as to gain sympathy or make known a
sympathy felt. Such signs may be an uplifting of the eyes
with the hands clasped, or a hand may be smilingly kissed,
or articulate words of tender endearment may be uttered, or
curses may be shouted with clenched fists, the words in
neither case having any further meaning than an indication
of the feelings contained. Such signs, of course, are not
those of the first category, but only emotional signs.
We have before noticed the remarkable way in which
movements may be spontaneously and unconsciously co-
ordinated. 1 Such movements are due to feelings which have
also unconsciously become associated. The actions per-
formed apart from intellectual advertence show the power
we have of co-ordinating sensations as, e. g., in playing
the piano " by heart." Then the motions of the hands
and fingers follow each other in orderly succession, which is
manifestly due to co-ordinated sensations of touch and hear-
ing felt touches of the keys, and heard sounds of the
strings. Let only one note have become dumb, or one of
the keys struck fail to rise, and the whole automatic action
may come to an end through a failure of co-ordination in
the associated sensations.
But our power of unconsciously synthesising our move-
ments into one complex general action as in the stone-
throwing before described 2 runs parallel with another
remarkable power we have of unconsciously synthesising
various pleasurable tendencies into one dominant impulse.
1 See ante, p. 117. * See ante, pp. 117, 118.
152 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
This power is singularly analogous to, though toto ccelo dif-
ferent from, volition. That we have such a power is mani-
fest from the actions of persons when walking in their sleep,
or during a state of reverie, and also from the actions of
some idiots. Another sensuous power we possess, and
which we may term " sensuous attention," is one that
simulates the intellectual and voluntary act we know as
paying attention to, deliberately observing, anything.
Thus persons who walk in their sleep have been observed,
when missing some object from its wonted place, to begin
to look or feel for it. We may also observe in ourselves,
when startled by some new and disturbing object, how our
senses automatically direct themselves to it without waiting
for the bidding of our conscious will.
But the complex association and co-ordination of a group,
or groups, of feelings (sensations and mental images), with
resulting co-ordination of groups of movements, may have
a yet more remarkable result. They may result in the
spontaneous, unconscious, and automatic employment of
what are, practically, " means to an end," quite apart from
any intellectual recognition of either means or end as such.
This result is sometimes strikingly manifested by somnambul-
ists, Who have been known to perform very complicated ac-
tions. Under such circumstances, a drawer may be opened
or a door unlocked in an unconscious search to obtain some
object or reach some locality. Such actions are easily
explicable in the way above stated. For the consentience
of the sleep-walker is impressed by various groups of sensa-
tions, such as those produced by the walls and furniture of
the room the sleep-walker may be traversing on the way to
the desired locality, the door of which is locked. The feel-
ings thus excited arouse his imagination of the inside of the
place sought, this in turn excites the nervous channels
habitually stimulated in overcoming the intervening obstruc-
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 153
tion the hand automatically seeks the key; the feelings
produced by its touch stimulate the muscles of the arm ;
the key is turned, and the door opened. Very complex
movements are sometimes thus automatically performed in
order to complete a sensuous harmony which the imagina-
tion, through habit, has come to crave. It craves for fresh,
completing sensations, and is thus led to perform appro-
priate movements when certain initial sensations have
been afresh excited, after which the completing sensations
have (in past experience) habitually followed. This, then,
is the " practical imagination of means to effect a desired
end."
Such sensuous acts are what we should expect to find
amongst animals if they are, as they have generally been
supposed to be, creatures richly endowed with sensitive
faculties, though devoid of those which are intellectual.
But what judgment are we to form with respect to the
highest psychical faculties of animals ? That is the next
question to which we must now address ourselves. The ques-
tion, however, is not, of course, to be pursued for its own
sake in a work such as this, but for the sake of its indirect
bearing on Epistemology.
Many persons who have accepted the Darwinian hypo-
thesis as to evolution are inclined to distrust their own reason,
as being but the intelligence of a more highly developed
ape. If, therefore, the study of animal intelligence should
convince our readers that there is a difference of kind be-
tween the psychical nature of man and that of animals, such
reason for distrust must disappear. But, on the other hand,
should we become convinced that there is no difference of
kind, the distrust referred to need not thereby be strength-
ened. For animals would then be seen to be of a much higher
nature than has been usually supposed, since (as we shall
see) there can be no doubt as to our own rationality. If
1 54 THE GRO UND WORK OF SCIENCE
animals are also rational, though but potentially so, we may
suppose that their environment and some incompleteness of
internal development has prevented them from hitherto
manifesting their latent rationality. It must have remained
hidden, as that of the human infant is concealed by the co-
existence of internal and external conditions, which make
its external manifestation impossible. There would, there-
fore, be no more reason to distrust the dictates of human
reason, because developed from that of an unconscious
animal, than because developed (as that of all men has been)
from that of an unconscious infant.
We can, therefore, address ourselves czquo animo to the
question of animal intelligence and study it with the most
complete impartiality, since the absolute value of the
dictates of our own intelligence cannot be affected thereby.
Nevertheless, the question is most interesting, as bearing
on the problem of nature's continuity, and as being one to
which many excellent persons have (we believe most mis-
takenly) attached an extreme importance.
In dealing with this matter, great confusion and numerous
mistakes have arisen from the fact that many persons will
attempt to understand and explain the psychical powers of
animals without having previously obtained a comprehen-
sion of their own. As Mr. C. Lloyd Morgan has amusingly
remarked, 1 " the psychologist is apt sometimes to smile
when, after the recital of some anecdote of animal intelli-
gence, the writer exclaims, ' If this is not reason, I do not
know what reason is.' As, however, in such cases, the
writer has himself suggested the alternative, there is perhaps
no discourtesy on the part of the psychologist in accepting
it." Indeed, men often interpret the actions of animals in
a way which they regard as being simple and natural.
1 In his excellent work entitled Introduction to Comparative Psychology, p.
261.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 155
" Simple and natural " such explanations would be if they
were applied to human beings, but exceedingly forced and
unnatural they may be when applied in estimating the acts
of creatures the natures of which are exceedingly different.
They are also apt to be caught ia a snare, which it is as
necessary as it is difficult to avoid. This is the necessity we
are all under of expressing ourselves in terms which have
been gained as the result of prolonged processes of abstrac-
tion, since, as we have before observed, 1 all our words are the
results of such processes. To make use of such symbols,
then, to denote psychical states which are not the result of
abstraction, is to run the greatest risk either of misrepre-
sentation or of being misapprehended.
Occam's celebrated saying, " Entia non sunt multiplicanda
prater necessitatem," applies to psychology as well as to
other sciences, and it forbids us to credit mere animals with
the higher human mental powers when their actions can be
quite well explained more simply by those lower psychical
activities which we have just passed in review as existing in
ourselves. The tales told by the owners of pet animals
are often absolutely untrustworthy, so strong is the ten-
dency they have unconsciously to exaggerate the perform-
ances of their favourites, and naively to interpret them in
terms of purely human psychology.
As to the highest psychical faculties of mere animals gen-
erally those which are not pets many persons credit them
with powers (i) of perceiving objects; (2) of perceiving rela-
tions between objects; (3) of perceiving their own existence
consciousness ; (4) of having ideas ; (5) of reasoning; (6) of
perceiving moral quality; (7) of expressing their ideas by
sounds, and (8) by gestures.
Since the question of animal rationality is for us a sub-
ordinate question, with only an indirect bearing on our main
1 See ante^ p. 7.
THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
conclusions, we are compelled to consider the eight just
enumerated points but very briefly.
That animals in one sense perceive objects is, of course,
unquestionable. If they did not do so, coursing and hawk-
ing would be impossible. But what is the nature of such
perceptions ? We have already seen how, by turning the
mind backwards and considering our experience, we may
recognise that we have had perceptions of which we were
not conscious at the time we experienced them. Such per-
ceptions were sufficient to guide our movements, as they
serve to guide those of the unconscious sleep-walker in our
words, there was not consciousness, but only consentience.
Need we then credit animals with more than this ? Such
sense-perceptions of theirs may be much more keen and
more rapidly cognised than are our own. We ourselves do
not know of any animal actions which we think cannot be
explained by cognitions of this lower kind. It will be said,
however, for a cat to watch the movements of a mouse and
to catch it, needs not only that it should see the mouse, but
the objects around it, and the varying bearings of the run-
ning mouse thereto. This, of course, must be fully con-
ceded, yet such cognition is sufficiently accounted for by
that mere unintellectual, unconscious awareness which we
have termed 1 the "practical imagination of means to an
end."
Again, it may, perhaps, be objected that the cat not only
sees the mouse, but knows that it is a mouse and nothing
else. This also may be freely admitted in the sense of a
mere sensuous cognition or sense-perception. But there is
no need to credit the animal with even the direct perception
of the mouse, as the embodiment of a universal abstract
idea, such as is possessed by the lowest and most uncultured
human being who is sane. The cat need only have that
1 See ante, p. 153.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
synthesis of sensations and imaginations that kind of men-
tal image which we distinguish as a " sensuous universal."
If, then, we need not credit animals with the perception
of objects as we understand perception, can we credit them
with any perception of " relations " between objects ? The
answer to this question will make yet plainer what we mean
by a perception of objects themselves ; since, as we shall see
directly, such a perception of objects themselves implies a
perception of relations themselves.
To perceive anything with conscious perception, though
only that of direct consciousness, also implies a direct con-
sciousness of the main relations in which it stands to other
things, and which differentiate it from them. To perceive
anything with reflex consciousness, which affirms, " I do
know that thing to be what it is," implies and necessitates
a reflex consciousness also of those of its relations which en-
able us to be sure it is what it is. For without turning back
the mind to reconsider what it had previously done, we could
not recognise the relations as relations, and so obtain the
certainty we are thus enabled to reach. If we have occa-
sion to note only one relation as the relation of right and
left we must, to be conscious of it, turn our attention to
both these conditions successively, and then simultaneously
have regard to both terms, or we could not apprehend the
relation.
We think there is no need to credit animals with such
complex psychical acts in order to explain even their most
startling performances. It seems to us that their consen-
tience affords them practically sufficient sensuous percep-
tions of the relations in which objects and events stand to
each other, as well as of the objects themselves.
Similarly, it is plain that animals have a practical sense of
their existence, and run no risk of mistaking another creature
for themselves. But for such a sensitive synthesis there is
158 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
no need of consciousness, as we know by purely human ex-
perience. All that is needed is consentience, and this no
one can doubt that they possess, and probably exert this
faculty with greater energy than we do, on account of the
absence in them of a truly intellectual, conscious self-
perception, such as that which enables us to perceive that
" I am I, and not another."
As to the possession by animals of " ideas," no one can
deny them such psychical activities as are often so termed
namely, the faint revival of complex groups of past sensa-
tions and imaginations previously experienced, and varied
associations of groups of groups of such psychical states.
But this is by no means what we understand by " ideas."
An " idea " is a " psychical " entity, which spontaneously
starts forth in our mind, upon the reception of certain
sensuous experiences (sensations and imaginations), like
Athene from the head of Zeus. Thus one of our earliest
ideas is also the most ultimate and most abstract, namely,
the idea of being. For the rest we must refer our readers
to what we have said about " ideas " in our first chapter. 1
But it has been very unreasonably contended, since animals
examine and reject some things for food and yet eat other
things with avidity, that they must have such universal
ideas as " good-for-eating " and " not-good-for-eating. "
Now, the inner nature and faculties of an organism can only
be judged of by the outcome of its powers, whatever these
may be. If animals really had ideas of the kind, and con-
sciously performed voluntary acts of examination in order
to see which of two general ideas might be applicable in any
given case, then they would, most surely, soon make us
very fully aware of it by other less equivocal manifestations
of their possession of intellectual faculties essentially like
our own. Interpretations such as the above might carry us
1 See ante, pp. 10-13.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 159
very far. We might say, for instance, that plants have
abstract ideas of " suitable-for-nutrition " and " not-suit-
able-for-nutrition," and of the still more abstract ideas,
" big-enough-to-be-worth-a-prolonged-effort," and " not-
big-enough-to-be-worth-a-prolonged-effort. " For Venus's
looking-glass (Dioncea) will snap together the blades of its
singular leaf to catch an insect, but will not do so to catch
a non-digestible object. More than this, if the blades of its
leaf have closed on an insect of very small size (not worth
catching) they will (it is said) unclose and let it go again;
while otherwise they will hold it till it is killed and digested.
Animals, even very lowly ones, possess multitudes of com-
plex associations of feelings and movements. What, then,
is more to be expected than that when an animal experiences
a group of new sensations from a novel object, it should
apply its senses and consentience to aid their reception and
instinctively make movements in response thereto ? Such
movements need be no sign of the existence of ideas when
other evidence clearly points to their non-existence.
Sensuous analogues of ideas, then, animals, of course,
possess, and the phenomena they present do not, we be-
lieve, demand the recognition in them of any higher powers
for their satisfactory explanation.
Similarly, the faculty of reason which we possess is, we
believe, quite distinct from any power possessed by mere
animals. There are, indeed, many actions on their part
which at first sight look like reason, but for which that lower
faculty of our own we have termed 1 " expectant imagina-
tion " amply accounts, so far as we can see.
In considering this question we should always take pains
to understand and correctly appreciate the distinction which
exists between true " inference," which is an essentially in-
tellectual apprehension of a truth as implicitly contained in
1 See ante, p. 150.
l6o THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
other truths, and that mere sensuous reinstatement of past
impressions which may simulate it. The latter affection is
what we regard as the " sensuous " or " organic " inference
of animals. Let any group of sensations have become in-
timately associated with certain other sensations, then, as
before pointed out, upon the recurrence of that group, an
imagination of the sensations previously associated therewith
spontaneously arises in the mind, and we have, as before
said, an expectant feeling of their proximate actual recur-
rence as in the instance of a flash of lightning having come,
by association, to lead to an expectant feeling of thunder
to follow.
Thus mere " association " may give rise to " feelings of
expectation," which when satisfied may give rise to a feeling
of satisfaction or completion, and such may certainly exist
in animals as well as in ourselves without the presence of
any true reasoning faculty.
In Mr. C. Lloyd Morgan's work, 1 already referred to,
readers will find a very painstaking examination of the evi-
dence both for and against the rationality of animals.
Although his opinion favours the non-existence of a differ-
ence of kind between human and animal intelligence, he is,
nevertheless, of opinion that animals can neither perceive
relations nor reason, and that with the advent of the latter
power a breach of continuity and a fresh departure really
took place. The book also contains a careful criticism of a
variety of tales concerning animal intelligence.
He is also of opinion that animals are entirely devoid of
ethical perceptions; but other persons are not wanting who
do credit them with moral perception !
That dogs will not only love their master but readily obey
his commands, and feel pain if they have yielded to a tempta-
tion to transgress them, may be very true. That dogs and
1 Introduction to Comparative Psychology.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE l6l
other animals may sometimes feel impelled to assist their
fellows in distress on witnessing their sufferings, we should
not care to dispute, and it is possible that to some migrating
bird, which has left its young behind, an imagination of its
deserted brood may arise and cause it a painful emotion.
But such feelings have really nothing to do with ethical
perception. " Conscience " is the exercise of judgment in
a particular direction. It is a particular kind of judgment
namely, a judgment about " right " and " wrong," and
nothing else. Acting rightly is often pleasurable, but it is
also not unfrequently very painful, for it may tell us we are
bound to give up something which is for us the very joy of
life, or to take upon us a task as irksome as it is dutiful.
It is plain that we may feel pleasure in doing things which
are wrong, for certainly otherwise they would never be done.
On the other hand, there may be much painful regret on ac-
count of quite innocent actions, such as some trifling breach
of etiquette. Keen remorse also may be felt on account of
having neglected some excellent opportunity of pushing our
fortune, or even of committing some very pleasurable but
very immoral action.
The late Mr. Darwin, who may be regarded as the leading
exponent of the view which would regard morality as essen-
tially similar in men and animals, said that " conscience "
was " that feeling of regretful dissatisfaction which is in-
duced in a man who looks back and judges a past action with
disapproval." Now " conscience " certainly " looks back
and judges," but not every act of that kind which is accom-
panied by " regretful dissatisfaction " is a moral judgment.
A French writer has said that no regret is so keen as the
regret which may accompany the recollection of the non-
commission of pleasant sins which might have been enjoyed.
Such judgments, however much remorse may accompany
them, can hardly be called " moral."
1 62 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
The profound distinction which exists between the idea
" goodness " and every other idea, will be made plain by a
consideration of the reasons which may be urged in favour
of the performance of any plain duty.
Every step we take to explain why any duty should be
performed, must consist of some still more simple assertion
of the same kind, till we come to an assertion about duty
the truth of which is admitted to be self-evident.
Now all our certain knowledge must be either evident in
itself or must depend upon some other knowledge which is
evident in itself. As we have before remarked, we cannot
go on arguing forever, and every proof must stop some-
where namely, when we reach what is evident of itself, and
therefore needs no proof.
If, then, we want to urge some statement about any par-
ticular action being " right " or " wrong," if that statement
be not admitted to be evidently true, we can only prove it
to be so by means of some more general and elementary
statement of the same nature. Therefore the judgments
which lie at the root of any system of thought about ethics
(about right and wrong) must themselves be ethical.
This profound truth shows us that it is absolutely impos-
sible that the power of ethical judgment could ever have
been gained through the experience of mere feelings of liking
or disliking, pleasure or pain, sympathy or aversion, good-
will or hostility of other beings.
It is a distinct kind of intellectual perception, and, there-
fore, if animals are in the least moral, they must possess the
power of intellectual perception, and also be able to form
and comprehend highly abstract truths. For the purpose
of this work, as before said, it does not matter in the least
whether a snail or a starfish has or has not this intellectual
faculty. We confess, however, that we have been .quite
unable to obtain evidence satisfactory to us that any mere
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 163
animals are endowed with intellect, though we are quite
ready to consider any better evidence which may be forth-
coming. But if we have been mistaken, and if our ethical
judgments have been mere congeries of animal feelings, and
ultimately of physical impulses, which impulses and feelings
have lost their way and come to mistake themselves for
something else, then doubts might well arise as to the other
declarations of our intellect, falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus,
and it would be difficult for us thus to arrive at a satisfac-
tory Epistemology.
On this account we deem it well to make a few more
remarks upon the essential distinction of the ethical idea, a
recognition of the validity of that perception being for our
purposes of such extreme importance.
In the first place, the assertion is sometimes made that
ethic is but coincidence with " social approbation." But
no stream can possibly rise higher than its source. " Social
approbation," then, could never have produced the concep-
tion of " right and wrong " ; for how could a mere habit of
obeying society have ever led a moral hero to denounce that
habit and defy society ?
It has, again, been often affirmed that there is no real
distinction between " virtue " and " pleasure." Instead of
there being any absolute distinction between them it is said
that " good actions " are merely actions pleasurable or use-
ful to the individual who performs them, or are advan-
tageous to his fellow-men. They say, also, that it is the
pleasurable or useful results which cause actions to be good
actions, not the intentions with which the doer may perform
them.
It is true we say " That is a ' good ' knife " because it
cuts well, and any weapon or any other useful article is said to
be a "good " one if it well serves the purpose it was intended
to serve. But a very little consideration will show that such
164 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
a use of the word does not bring home to us the fundamen-
tal meaning of the term. For " conformity to an end " will
not make an action good unless the end aimed at is itself
good and agreeable to duty unless by conforming to it we
" follow the right order." If a young person, carefully in-
structed by a thief, conforms to the end aimed at so com-
pletely as to pick pockets with extraordinary deftness, such
" conformity " will not make his action a " good " one.
But if the end aimed at is really a good end, and one which
is for us a " duty," if we ask, " Why should we do our
duty ? Why should we follow the right order ? " the only
possible final answer is, " It is right so to do."
If it be urged in opposition that " we should follow the
right order because it is our true interest to do so," he who
so urges must either mean " we should always follow our
own interest," which is abandoning the rule of " right and
wrong" altogether, or he must mean " we should follow
our interest, not because it is our interest, but because it is
right " a proposition which, however mistaken it may be
in fact, yet is one which, in its mistaken way, affirms the
very principle, the rule of " right and wrong," which it was
designed to oppose.
But persons who say that the morality of any action de-
pends on its results can always be refuted simply by examin-
ing into the assertions about duty which they themselves
make. Thus that eminent utilitarian philosopher, the late
John Stuart Mill, declared that he would rather go to hell
than consent to call " good " a God who should violate the
laws of the highest human morality, and in so saying he,
of course, implied that other men ought to do the same.
The sentiment was a very admirable one, yet singularly
inconsistent in the mouth of a utilitarian. For on the one
hand, as a utilitarian, he taught that men in all cases should
seek the greatest happiness for all, while on the other he
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 165
declared, in the case supposed, that in so pursuing happi-
ness they should all voluntarily plunge into the greatest
possible misery.
But without having recourse to any such extreme supposi-
tion, the simplest facts suffice to show that it is not the conse-
quences of an act but the intention wherewith it is performed
which makes the action " good " or " bad."
Let us suppose that two men have each a sick wife, and
that the doctor has left with each man two bottles : one a
valuable internal remedy, the other a poisonous lotion. One
of these men, who is devoted to his wife, gives her by pure
mistake the lotion to drink, and kills her. The other man
desires to poison his wife, but, by also making a mistake as
to the bottles, gives her unintentionally the right medicine
and cures her. Can there be any doubt as to who is the
truly guilty man ? Who would venture to assert that the
act of the second man was really a " good " action because,
in spite of his evil intention, it had a good result ?
Again, it was said that the highest virtue is to do good
without thinking about it. Yet it cannot be the mere ab-
sence of thought which makes a spontaneously performed
useful action specially meritorious ; otherwise we should
attain the climax of virtue by performing beneficial actions
unconsciously, in a state of somnambulism.
The truly admirable nature of good actions done spon-
taneously and without reflection, lies in their being the
result of previously acquired good habits and of a fixed,
undeviating direction of the will towards what is right. But
this does not make such acts blind actions, and deprive the
doer of all power of knowing what he is about. A man
cannot act from a sense of justice without knowing justice
from injustice, and to approve habitually of kind and good
acts he must know what " goodness" is.
But another objection against the existence of any abso-
1 66 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
lute distinction between " right " and " wrong " is some-
times drawn from the fact that different nations (and the
same nation at different times) take different views as to the
" goodness " of some particular kind of action. But this
argument is quite valueless. It would be absurd, indeed,
to suppose that all men were somehow furnished with a
whole code of laws directing what is to be done and what
abstained from in all cases. What we affirm is, that all
men (idiots apart) can perceive that there is such a thing as
" right " and " wrong." Men are not necessarily devoid
of morality because they draw their lines and rules in differ-
ent places, and actions revolting to us, such as the killing of
parents, may seem good to those who- kill, if they act in
obedience to the wishes of their parents, and to procure for
them, as they suppose, a happy immortality.
For the existence of moral perception it is by no means
necessary that men should always agree about the application
of ethical principles; what they agree about, though they
need not cognise it by a reflex act, is that some actions are
wrong and deserve punishment. The merest savage knows
that an ungrateful and treacherous injury inflicted on him-
self is an act of that kind. Australian savages appear to
have very clear and precise ethical notions about punish-
ments which they have themselves merited, and will hold
out a limb to be speared when they have done an act which
merits that chastisement.
Though tribes may differ as to what is right and just,
men have never thought an action to be right because it
was unjust, or because it was ungrateful, or another act to
be wrong because it was just or kind.
So essential is the distinction between the " good " and
the " useful," that not only does the idea of " benefit "
not enter into the idea of " duty," but the very fact of an
action not being beneficial may make it praiseworthy. Its
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 167
merit may be increased by any self-denial which attends on
its performance, and also decreased by gain.
To nurse carefully and tenderly is " good," but our ap-
preciation of its merit is diminished if we know that the
patient's death has brought his nurse a rich and hoped-for
legacy. A woman may have an immoral connection with
another's husband, but if we find that instead of any gain
thereby accruing, she has sacrificed herself for him, our
censure may be thereby mitigated, since it shows she " has
loved much."
In the material gain or loss which may attend our acts it
is not that the absence of the former, or of pleasure, bene-
fits our neighbour more ; it is that any diminution of pleasure
which circumstances may occasion (irrespective of any ad-
vantage thereby occasioned to our neighbour) in itself
heightens the value of an action. But evidently that can
never be the substance of duty which makes any act more
dutiful by its absence!
The conception of duty is the conception of something
supreme and absolute, apart from all question of pleasures
and pains, rewards and punishments, and also of utility.
As Cicero said, it is "Quod tale est ut detracta omni utilitate
sive aliis prcemiis fructibusque per se ipsumpossitjure laudari. "
Some of our readers may, perhaps, fancy that we have
devoted too much space to this question of ethics. But
without a full explanation of a matter so often misunder-
stood and misrepresented, the problem concerning the
morality of brutes could not be demonstrated with sufficient
clearness. There is, however, another reason why we have
thought it well to dwell at some length upon this question.
We have done so in anticipation of what we shall have to
say in our eighth chapter concerning our highest faculties,
and we consider that it has a bearing on Epistemology,
which cannot reasonably be ignored.
1 68 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
We will now return to the question of the psychical
powers of brutes, and notice some anecdotes and examples
of their asserted intellectuality.
In considering the value of the reports made about the in-
telligence of this or that animal, 1 we ought carefully to bear
in mind two facts. If the creatures about which the asser-
tions are made are creatures low in the scale of animal life,
we should recollect the extraordinary development of in-
stinct amongst the class of insects. If the creatures referred
to are animals of a superior kind, then we should compare
their actions with those lower faculties which we possess,
and which, as we have seen, 8 enable us to do so many things
in a merely automatic manner. We should recollect how
we every now and then have experienced a feeling of malaise,
we did not know on what account, till we have found it
suddenly relieved by finding something which was pre-
viously missing, though we were not conscious of missing it
till the shock we experienced on our having automatically
found it has called our attention to the matter. We our-
selves have frequently experienced this when one of the
various objects we habitually carry in our pockets has been
unconsciously transferred from one to another. We can,
as everyone knows, do many things automatically and with-
out consciousness which we often perform with full con-
sciousness. This fact makes it probable that similar actions
may take place in animals, and another fact is also very
significant : this is the notorious circumstance that persons
deprived of one of their senses often have their remaining
senses made more acute. It is also commonly affirmed that
some savages, who have very little intellectual power, have
much keener powers of seeing, hearing, and, perhaps, even
1 No one has better or more thoroughly advocated the rationality of animals
than the late Mr. Romanes. See his book entitled Mental Evolution in Man.
9 See ante, pp. 143-156.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 169
of smelling, than we have. How much keener still may not
be the sensitive powers of creatures whose whole being is
entirely given up to sensitivity, without its being interfered
with by any true intellectual activity ! It should surely
cause us little wonder if we find them doing many things
which we ourselves could not do in similar circumstances.
That an elephant should blow through its trunk on the
ground beyond some object it sought to obtain, and thus to
drive it back ; that a bear should paw the water in order to
bring a floating piece of bread within reach, or that dogs,
accustomed to rivers or the seashore, should automatically
allow for the action of currents with which they were prac-
tically familiar, need occasion no surprise to anyone. Such
actions are just the ones we might confidently anticipate
should take place under the given circumstances.
The late Mr. Darwin related the circumstance that a dog
of his, on hearing the words " Hi ! hi ! where is it ? " rushed
about, looking in all directions and even up into trees; and
he considered that these actions clearly showed that the dog
entertained " a general idea that some animal was to be
discovered and hunted." Now, of course, such sounds
uttered in an eager voice excited the dog's emotions and
awoke in its consentience reminiscences of before-experi-
enced groups of smells, sounds, colours, and motions and
relations of various kinds, between them previously con-
nected with pleasurable activities and feelings of cravings
satisfied, etc., etc. But such groups of feelings, vivid and
faint, are, as we have seen before, something very different
from " a general idea."
Wolves have both a fear of man and a suspicious feeling
with respect to traps and snares, on which account they
have been credited with possessing an " abstract idea of
danger." But the lower human unconscious activities we
have passed in review are amply sufficient to account for
1 70 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
such phenomena, especially as the smell of man may often
lead a wolf not to touch a bait which a man has set for him.
In order correctly to appreciate the limits of the emotional
language of animals, we must understand how much they
can do by mere consentience, and that actions on their part,
at which most ignorant wonder is often expressed, do not
imply either self-consciousness or the possession of any ab-
stract ideas. All the actions of the most intelligent animal
can, we think, be fully understood as results of powers
similar to our own lower faculties described in the last
chapter. For such actions on the part of animals, it is
necessary, indeed, that they should sensibly cognise things,
but not that they should perceive them intellectually ; that
they should feel themselves as existing, but not recognise
their own existence ; that they should feel relations between
objects, but not perceive them as relations ; that they should
remember, but not seek to recollect, or know that what
actually recurs to memory really relates to a past recognised
as such; that they should feel and express emotions, but
not know they possess them ; that they should seek what
pleases them, but not aim at pleasure knowingly, or know
that the pleasure they feel is pleasurable. By the exercise
of such merely sensitive faculties, brutes can pursue an es-
caping prey, jump up banks or rocks, climb to attain what
is otherwise out of reach, raise up a dam, as does the beaver,
or make use of a stone to crack a hard nut, as does the
American sapajou ape. Actions such as these are performed
to complete a harmony which the imagination craves, owing
to associations previously effected between groups of feel-
ings and emotions, and groups of groups of such. A cat
does not need to entertain any intellectual knowledge or
belief that the sound of clattering plates means possible
food, to attain which it must make certain movements.
Quite independently of such belief, and by virtue of mere
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 17 1
sensuous association, the sound of the plates alone is enough
to give rise to such movements on the part of the cat as
have previously become associated with pleasant sensations
of taste. Let certain sensations, emotions, and movements
become associated, and then the former need not be noted ;
they only need to exist for the association formed to produce
its effects. When the circumstances of any case differ from
those of some previous experiences, but imperfectly resemble
those of many past experiences, parts of these, and conse-
quent actions, are irregularly suggested by the laws of re-
semblance, until such action is hit on which relieves pain or
gives pleasure. For instance, let a dog be lost by its master
in a field in which it has never been before. The presence
of a group of feelings which we know to indicate its master
is associated with pleasure, while the absence of those feel-
ings gives pain. By past experience an association has been
formed between this feeling of pain and such movements
of the head as tend to recover some part of that group, its
recovery being again associated with movements which, de
facto, diminish the distance between the dog and its master.
The dog, therefore, pricks up its ears, raises its head, and
looks round. Its master is nowhere to be seen ; but at the
corner of the field there is visible a gate at the end of a lane,
which resembles a lane in which he has walked. An image
of that other lane and of its master walking there presents
itself to the imagination of the dog; it runs to the present
lane, but on getting into it he is not there. From the lane,
however, the dog can see a tree on the other side of which
he was accustomed to rest ; the same process is repeated,
but he is not found. Of course, throughout, the dog has
everywhere exercised its sense of smell but in vain. At
last it goes home. By the action of such feelings, imagi-
nations, and associations, which we know, by what takes
place in ourselves, do really exist and act as causes by
172 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
these, all the apparently intelligent actions of animals can,
in our opinion, be explained without the need of calling in
the help of true intellect, the existence of which in them is
inconsistent with the phenomena they, as a whole, exhibit,
and which, did it exist, would most certainly make itself
very plainly manifest to us in many and often in very
unpleasant ways.
A stag which " doubles " on its own footsteps, when
hunted or before retiring to rest, has been credited, in the
former case, with seeking to confuse its trail against real
dogs, and in the latter case against imaginary hounds which
may possibly be on the scent. But there is not the slightest
need of such intellectual conceptions on the part of the stag
to account for such actions, which are clearly instinctive, like
the actions of the dog, which instinctively turns round and
round on a drawing-room hearth-rug before lying down, just
as if it were in its ancestral home in the greenwood where
herbs needed pressing down and treading round to make a
comfortable bed. .
Mr. Romanes cites ' an amusing tale from a Miss Bram-
ston about a certain archiepiscopal collie dog which had ac-
quired a habit of hunting imaginary pigs every evening
directly after family prayers. The fact is put forward as an
important instance of something beyond mere animal capac-
ity as commonly understood ; but, in truth, the fact is so
easily explicable by a mere association of sensations, that it
may well be cited as a type for other instances more or less
similar but not so easily explicable. It appears the animal
had formerly been accustomed to be sent to chase real pigs
out of a field, and so the sound of the word " pigs " and
the pleasurable action of running about after them had
become associated in the dog's imagination. It had been
the custom for Miss Branston to open the door for the collie
1 Op. ctf., p. 56.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 1/3
after dinner in the evening and say " Pigs! " when it very
naturally ran out and ran about according to its previously ac-
quired habit. Soon this exercise became in its turn a matter
of habit, and the phenomena attending the termination of
dinner, or, later, of family prayers, very naturally gave rise
in the collie to an expectant feeling (such as may arise with-
out consciousness in ourselves *) of the door being opened
for the accustomed pleasurable excitement. If the door
was not opened, the habit being now well established, the
expectant feeling, growing more and more vivid with delay,
could hardly fail to elicit barks, tail-waggings, and move-
ments towards the exceptionally unopened door, and the
accumulating excitement might very well lead it at last to
run out and bark without waiting for the utterance of the
word " pigs " ; nor is it in the least surprising to learn that
the phenomena attending family prayers at Miss Bramston's
house should arouse in the dog the same kind of expectant
feelings and the therewith associated actions, which had be-
come so engrained during its residence at the archbishop's.
We ought, perhaps, also to notice the oft-told tale about
crows which have been thought able to count. It appears
that somewhere beneath the nests shot at was a watch-
house, and by its aid the wary crow was, only after several
vain attempts, finally deceived. When about to shoot the
nests, in order to deceive the suspicious bird, the plan was
hit upon of sending two men to the watch, one of whom
passed on while the other remained. This stratagem was
without effect. The next day three went, but the bird
merely looked on while only two returned, and it was found
necessary to send five or six men to the watch-house before
her senses were sufficiently confused. But there was surely
nothing very wonderful in the fact that a crow, seeing a man
go beneath her nest with a gun, should keep clear till she
1 See ante, p. 150.
1/4 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
saw him go away, even if he had hidden himself for a time.
What marvel was it, then, that the bird's sense-perception
felt a difference between the visual picture presented by a
group of three men and another presented by only two ?
The wonder rather is that the crow should not have been
more discriminative.
But obtuseness to numerical differences on the part of
highly organised animals, such as dogs and cats, seems to
us very wonderful, indeed absolutely to negative their
possession of any sensitive faculty which might run parallel
with our idea of number. Such is the case, since both
bitches and she-cats do not seem to miss a single pup or
kitten which may be taken away from the others in her litter
when they have not actually witnessed the act of its being
taken away.
But the fact which has been most relied on as a proof that
a mere animal can understand what " number " is, was the
fact that a chimpanzee known as Sally, and which lived a
long time at the Zoological Gardens, was in the habit of
picking up the exact number of straws she was told to pick
up by her keeper. She would pick up separately from the
ground, place in her mouth, and then present to him in one
bunch, two, three, four, five, and, we believe, ultimately,
ten straws, as she was told. She had distinctly associated
the several sounds of these numbers with corresponding
groups of picked-up straws. The ape would also, on com-
mand, pass a straw through a large or a small hole in the
fastening of its cage, or through a particular interspace of
its wire-netting. It would also put objects into its keeper's
pocket, play various odd tricks with boy visitors, howl
horribly when told to sing, and hold on its head pieces of
apple, remaining perfectly quiescent till some particular
word was said. This last trick, however, is one of the com-
monest performed by pet dogs, and the putting of objects
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 175
into the keeper's pocket was nothing remarkable. The
passing of a straw through a special aperture on command
would have been more so but for the fact that the basis of
the whole superstructure of such tricks was laid by the
animal itself having spontaneously taken to the trick of pick-
ing up a straw and passing it through a small hole near the
keyhole of the door of the cage possibly as a result of
having seen a key put in and out of the keyhole. Having
thus itself acquired a habit of picking up straws and passing
them through a hole, there could be little difficulty in get-
ting it to pass the straw through other holes, and not much
in getting it to pick up more straws than one. That it
should have associated certain motions with the sound of
certain words is no more than dogs, pigs, and various other
animals lower in the scale will accomplish.
There remains, then, as the single distinguishing peculiar-
ity of this case, the association in the ape's imagination and
consentience of the words one, two, three, four, five, or ten,
with the picking up, holding, and handing over a corre-
sponding number of straws. This fact of association is, so
far as we know, exceptional, and it is, therefore, very in-
teresting. But it does not prove that the animal has any
idea of these numbers not of course as numbers but as so
many separate things.
The idea of number implies comparison with a simultane-
ous recognition of both distinctness and similarity ; although,
of course, it is not necessary that the fact of our having such
apprehensions should be adverted to. No two things could
be known to be two without an apprehension that while they
are numerically distinct they can in some way be thought
of as belonging to one class of objects. We could not
reasonably say that four tons of coal and four o'clock are
" eight," or that Hamlet's idea of a future life and the At-
lantic cable are " two," unless we mean to speak of them as
176 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
two of our thoughts; in which case they would be two
species of the genus " our ideas."
Sally was but one of many animals that had come to as-
sociate very complex bodily movements with articulate
sounds. The marvel of the matter is, in fact, due to a trick
our own imagination plays us. The keeper's words of com-
mand expressed and implied the highly abstract idea of
number, and as that idea and our sensuous impression of
such utterances have become closely connected, so we are
apt to picture to ourselves a like connection as existing in
the cognitive faculty of the ape. But its presence there is
by no means necessary to explain the action, while if such
a highly abstract idea was present there, the animal would
not allow us long to remain doubtful about such a fact.
We well recollect having specially questioned Sally's
keeper as to whether she ever pointed to any object or
made use of any gesture with the evident purpose of calling
attention to some fact or passing occurrence.
Although he was well disposed to extol the powers of his
charge so far as truth would permit, he distinctly assured us
that she did not do so. If anyone came in with a gun Sally
would show extreme terror, but she never pointed to it, or
by gesture called the keeper's attention to the dreaded ob-
ject. We were unable to see or hear anything which rend-
ered it possible to attribute to this very interesting animal a
psychical nature of a higher kind than that possessed by other
beasts. It appeared to us to have the same kind of powers
they possessed, though possibly somewhat higher in degree.
But this, surely, is just what we might have anticipated.
We may sum up the conclusions at which we have arrived
as follows : The minds of animals are analogous to ours, but
the analogy is expressed, as it were, on a lower plane. They
are astonished, but do not know it ; things recur to them
through their memory, but they know not that they have
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 1 77
recurred or that they remember. They recognise objects,
both natural and artificial, but they have no idea of them as
being either. A dog may fear another dog which is stronger
and fiercer, but it will have no idea of courage or fierceness.
Even insects will distinguish between differently coloured
objects the white from the blue, the red from the yellow
but no animal knows whiteness or blueness, and still less has
it any notion of " colour." Thus, the so-called " intelli-
gence, understanding, and knowledge " of animals are not
really true intelligence, understanding, and knowledge.
They are the sensuous groundwork of such intellectual
faculties. Since, also, they have no abstract ideas, they
cannot think " I." Yet, as we have said, though they have
not consciousness, they possess consentience, for we cannot
doubt that in them, as in us, sensitive influences of different
kinds are received into one common sensorium. A tiger
not only hears the plaintive cries of its victim, but at the
same time can see and feel its writhing limbs, and taste and
smell its blood. Such sensations also, no doubt, call up
within it more or less distinct reminiscences of similar feel-
ings previously experienced, and give rise to vivid emotions
and to appropriate actions.
But the irrationality of animals is shown by what, if they
were rational, would have to be called their exceeding
stupidity. Acts which would be reckoned as signs of ex-
treme obtuseness in us are common enough amongst animals
usually reckoned as the most intelligent. The fidelity of
dogs is proverbial, but in a sudden scuffle it is by no means
an unprecedented thing for a dog to fly at its own master.
Dogs have seen fuel put upon fires again and again, yet
what dog ever puts on any itself to maintain the heat it so
much enjoys ? Apes have been said sometimes to warm
themselves at deserted fires, yet no one asserts that they
have replenished them. It is quite wonderful they do not,
THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
for such an act seems to come well within the scope of mere
sensuous faculties. Some readers may have had a pet cat
which has now and again got a piece of bone fixed between
its back teeth. The useless motions the animal, when so
circumstanced, will make with its paw are sufficiently irra-
tional; but although the accident may have occurred to it
several times, it will act in the same way again and again,
and will sometimes stupidly struggle against its master while
he removes the object which distresses it, and, as soon as it
is removed, the animal will go off licking its jaws without a
sign of gratitude for the relief afforded.
Swallows will continue to build on a house which they can
see is being pulled down, and flies will deposit their eggs on
a carrion plant instead of on real carrion. Even an elephant,
an animal often thought so extremely wise, has been known
to be so extremely stupid as to pull off the end of its trunk
(which had got caught in a cord) instead of calling for help
and waiting till its keeper came.
But in truth animals merit no such reproach, for, of
course, they cannot make use of faculties they do not
possess, while they make, as a rule, an admirable and ex-
cellent use of those non-intellectual faculties wherewith they
are actually endowed.
We venture to think that the facts and anecdotes we have
here considered are sufficient for our purpose; but certain
alleged cases of sign-making on the part of animals will be
noticed in our next chapter on science and language.
In the preceding chapter we cited various instances of the
high degree to which the faculty known as " instinct " may
be developed as so many physical facts. In the present
chapter we propose to deal with instinct as a feeling, and
consider the question as to what may be its true nature.
We have seen ' that it exists unmistakably in man, though
1 See ante, pp. 126, 127.
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
it is but very poorly developed in him compared with what
we find existing in many of the lower animals, notably
insects. 1
Of course we are unconscious of the performance of our
own instinctive actions, and the essence of instinct is that its
acts should be performed blindly. But by observation, re-
flection, and reasoning, we can be very sure that we have
performed that we must have performed certain instinct-
ive actions in early life. What ground, then, can there be
to suppose that such instinctive actions of animals as we
have hereinbefore described, are accompanied by anything
more than feelings such as unconsciously exist in the human
infant ?
Montaigne sought to explain instinct by intelligence, but
it is surely obvious that the acts of chicks newly hatched,
or of young snakes, who from their mother's womb have
been untimely ripped, cannot be due to intelligent purpose.
It is impossible to suppose that any form of knowledge
guides the actions of the emperor moth, the excavations of
the grub of the stag-beetle in proportion to its jaws which
are yet to be, or the actions of the beetle sitaris. Intelli-
gence, therefore, is a quite unsatisfactory explanation of the
nature of the instinctive faculty. Not less unreasonable is
Condillac's hypothesis that instinct is the result of the ex-
perience of the individual animal which exhibits it. It is
manifest that experience could never lead a creature to per-
form acts with reference to conditions quite different from
all those it has ever had any experience of. Yet such are
the acts of the insects before described, and the human in-
fant is certainly not less destitute of experience.
Another explanation was offered by Lamarck, who de-
clared instinct to be " habit which has become hereditary."
Of course, this implies, as all Lamarckism necessarily im-
1 See ante, pp. 128-130.
180 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
plies, that acquired habits may become hereditary; but
granted, for argument's sake, that such is the case, there
remains a radical difference between instinct and habit.
" Habit " enables an agent to repeat with facility and pre-
cision an act which has been done before; but " instinct "
determines with precision the first performance of the act.
It is impossible to believe that any of the progenitors of
an infant acquired a habit of sucking, or that the insects
before referred to acquired a habit of performing their
purposive actions unless they were compelled by their
organisation so to do, in which case they would already
be instinctive.
But an attempt has also been made to explain instinctive
action as " lapsed intelligence " as consisting of acts which
were once performed with deliberate purpose, but which
are now carried on without advertence by unconscious auto-
matism. According to this view, instinctive actions would be
comparable with such actions as playing, without attention,
airs to learn to play which laborious, conscious atten-
tion was originally required. But here the same objections
apply as can be urged against Montaigne's hypothesis. It
may well be asked, could an adult female insect be supposed
to foresee the future needs of her first progeny, often so
totally different from her own wants ; or recollect her past
experiences as a chrysalis and as a grub, from the moment
she first quitted the egg ? Not less absurd would it be to
suppose that the grub of a male stag-beetle ever deliberately
reasoned out the need of making his chrysalis bed twice his
own size, on account of the jaws he is destined to grow, but
which he not only has not, but has never seen in adult in-
dividuals of his own species!
Lastly, the late Mr. Darwin has tried to explain instinct
as being partly due to intelligent, purposive action which
has become inherited, partly to the occurrence of accidental
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE l8l
variations of activity, which have been preserved by " na-
tural selection."
As to the former part of the explanation, the objections
we have already made to an intelligent origin of instinct
may, we think, suffice. Moreover, this explanation assumes
the truth of the proposition that acquired characters may be
inherited. As to the other part of the explanation, let us
look at one or two noteworthy instincts, and see if it is
credible that they should be due to accidental, haphazard
changes in habits already acquired.
Can we conceive that the duck which feigns an injured
wing that she may entice a dog away from her young brood,
can ever have come to do so by pure accident any more
than by deliberate intention ? Again, there is the case of
the wasp sphex, which stings spiders, caterpillars, and grass-
hoppers in the spots where their nervous ganglia respectively
lie, and so paralyses them. According to the doctrine of
" natural selection," either an ancestral wasp must have ac-
cidentally stung them each in the right place, and so the
sphex of to-day is the naturally selected descendant of a
line of ancestors which inherited this lucky, accidental
tendency to sting different insects differently, but always in
the right spots; or else the young of the ancestral sphex
originally fed on dead food, but the offspring of some indi-
viduals which happened to sting their prey so as to paralyse
but not kill them, were better nourished, and thus the habit
grew.
Finally, there is the curious instinct by which an animal,
when an enemy approaches, lies quite quiescent and appar-
ently helpless an action often spoken of as " shamming
death." The term is unfortunate, because the disposition
of the limbs adopted by insects which thus act is not the
same as that which their limbs assume when such insects are
really dead ; while some species are, when thus acting, less
1 82 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
quiescent than others. The remarkable circumstance, how-
ever, is not that a helpless insect should assume a ppsture
approximating to that of its own dead, but that such a
creature, instead of trying to escape, should adopt a mode
of procedure utterly hopeless, unless the enemy's attention
be thereby effectually eluded. It is impossible that this in-
stinct could have been gained by minute steps, for if the
quiescence, whether absolutely complete or not, were not
sufficient at once to make the creature elude observation, its
destruction would be only the more fully insured by such
ineffectual quiescence.
We have hitherto spoken only of instinct as existing in
animals, and in certain human actions necessary for merely
organic life ; but there are a variety of human activities of a
much higher kind to which the term instinctive can hardly,
it would seem, be positively denied. Such a special higher
instinct is that which impels man to the external manifesta-
tion by voice or gesture of the mental abstractions which
his intellect spontaneously forms, but which does not exist
(as we shall see) in animals. The very first beginnings of
literature, art, science, and politics may also be considered
as activities to which men have been first urged by an im-
pulse analogous to instinct impulses which, on the whole
and broadly considered, have augmented the well-being and
happiness of mankind.
But " natural selection " is as impotent to explain man's
lowest psychical powers as is " lapsed intelligence." Can
it be for a moment seriously maintained that such infantine
actions as sucking, deglutition, defecation, or the actions
of adolescence tending towards reproduction, ever arose
through the accidental conservation of haphazard variations
of habit in remote ancestors ? If not, then it is impossible
to account for such actions without the recognition of in-
stinct as a distinct faculty, so comparable with reflex action
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 183
that it may be called, as we termed it in the last chapter, a
reflex 'action of the individual as a whole. At the very bot-
tom of the scale of animal life we find it present. Animals
utterly devoid of a nervous system, and consisting of little
more than minute particles of living jelly, will build up for
themselves an external armour symmetrical in form and
most artificial in construction.
" From the very same sandy bottom one series [of such minute
creatures] picks up the coarser quartz grains, cements them
together with phosphate of iron secreted from its own substance,
and thus constructs a flask-shaped test, having a short neck and
a single large orifice. Another picks up the finest grains and puts
them together with the same cement into perfectly spherical tests
of the most extraordinary finish, perforated with numerous small
pores at regular intervals. Another selects the minutest sand-
grains and the terminal portions of sponge spicules, and works
these up together, apparently with no cement at all, into perfect
spheres, each having a single fissured orifice." (Carpenter's
Mental Physiology ', p. 41.)
However far, then, we may put back the beginnings of
instinct, the question as to its origin ever returns, and in-
deed with increased importunity. How did the first sentient
creatures come to take and swallow their food ? How did
they first come to fecundate their ova or suitably to deposit
them ? How did they first effect such movements as might
be necessary for their respiratory processes ? Wherever
such phenomena first manifested themselves in sentient
organisms, we seem compelled therein to recognise the
manifest presence of instinct which may be called the
faculty provided by nature for bridging over the interval
which exists between the purely vegetative functions (nutri-
tion and reproduction) and the complex activities of sentient,
animal life. It is one of the most noteworthy of psychical
1 84 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
powers, and its distinct and full recognition in all its bear-
ings will (as we shall see later on) be found to have an im-
portant bearing on problems of Epistemology.
The psychical antecedents of science, which we have
passed in review in the present chapter, consist of a number
of intellectual perceptions of facts and of relations between
facts, which enable us to understand the existence and
nature of psychical activities which do not rise into con-
sciousness. We have also been forced somewhat to antici-
pate matters and notice some of our higher psychical acts,
such as ethical conceptions, inferences, and reminiscences,
of which we are directly conscious, and which can only be
scrutinised by reflection with the aid of intellectual memory.
We have also (as before said) noted, as occurring in our-
selves, various acts of mere sense-perception, sensuous ideas
or imaginations, complexly associated with sensation and
sensuous memory, which may give occasion to sensuous in-
ference, with feelings of pleasure and pain, and also uncon-
scious co-ordinations of movements and feelings due to a
power of consentience our lower psychical powers. On
turning our attention to the world of mere animal life, we
saw reason to believe that the external manifestations made
by animals are susceptible of explanation by faculties re-
sembling our lower mental powers, without calling into play
the action of intellect and consciousness.
If we are correct in our estimate, then it must be admitted
that there is a distinction of kind between man and animals.
But we believe the question can only be decided by a
careful consideration of the true value and significance of
that obvious distinction between the lower creatures and
ourselves which is expressed by the proposition, " Men
speak, but animals are dumb." Have or have not mere
animals the power of expressing mental conceptions by
sounds or gestures ?
THE PSYCHICAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 185
This, which we regard as the crucial question of a distinc-
tion of kind between man and animals, demands separate
and somewhat lengthy consideration, and to it the next
chapter will be devoted.
CHAPTER VII
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE
IT has been already pointed out in the first chapter of this
book 1 that the simplest sentence cannot be rationally
uttered without giving expression (for the most part quite
unconsciously) to highly abstract ideas. In the last chapter 2
we also noted that there are at least three distinct categories
of " signs " the merely accidental, the emotional, and true
signs formally intended to serve as such, as also that all of
such signs may be either vocal or consist of some bodily
movements or gestures.
Signs which are merely accidental or emotional have now,
for our present purpose, to be carefully distinguished from
signs made with a rational purpose, and, therefore, neces-
sarily embodying abstract ideas. These merely accidental
and emotional signs gestures and cries often produce
sympathetic effects on those that see or hear them, who
may be thereby excited to make similar gestures and cries,
all expressive of excited feelings, on which account such
signs may be said to constitute a language of emotion.
These unintellectual manifestations may be divided into
three kinds or forms of emotional language.
They may consist of (i) inarticulate sounds only; such as
shouts and cries of pain or joy or surprise ; chuckles of satis-
faction or contempt ; murmurs of affection, as of a mother
to her infant, etc. ; (2) articulate sounds, wherein the
1 See ante, p. 7. 2 See ante, pp. 150-151.
186
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE l8/
syllables have no rational meaning. Amongst such must
be included phrases sometimes repeated by idiots, or the
verbal exclamations made without real meaning by rational
persons during strong excitement as an Italian may ex-
claim per Dio Bacco ! or any Englishman may invoke damage
to his own eyes and limbs or those of his neighbours ; and
(3) gestures, which do not express or answer to rational con-
ceptions, but are merely manifestations of feeling, as, e. g.,
jumping, dancing about, throwing up the arms, tossing the
hands, waving a hat, etc., etc.
Very different from all these is the spoken language, com-
posed of articulate sounds, as used in ordinary vocal inter-
course. In order to see this distinction clearly, it may be
well to analyse a very simple sentence, such, e. g., as " That
horse is running away."
The word " that," as thus used, has no signification in
and by itself, none without reference to the term " horse,"
which it qualifies, dividing and separating off the particular
horse referred to from all others, and so limiting and deter-
mining the application of the universal abstract term ' ' horse' '
to a single concrete example, for the word " that " conveys
the idea of an absolutely individual unity a unity which
cannot be present anywhere else except in the one concrete
entity referred to by it.
The word " horse," on the other hand, is a conventional
spoken, or written, sign of the idea " horse," and is a uni-
versal l abstract term, applicable, over and above the par-
ticular horse which is running away, to every other actual or
possible animal of the kind thus denominated. It denotes
no single subsisting thing, but a " kind " or whole class of
things a unity which can be present in many concrete in-
dividuals many horses besides the particular one referred
to in the sentence.
1 See ante, p. 6.
1 88 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
The word " is " denotes the most wonderful, important,
and most abstract of all ideas the idea of " existence " or
" being." It is an idea which we must have in order to
perform any intellectual act. It is an idea which, though
not itself at first adverted to, makes all other ideas intelligible
to us, as light, though itself unseen, renders everything else
visible to us. But we shall return to the question of the
significance of the word " is," and, later on, justify fully
what is here said.
The term " running away " is one which denotes another
abstract idea namely, an abstract " quality " or " state "
of some object. The idea is one evidently applicable to
many things, such as all mice, dogs, lizards to anything,
in fact, which can " run away." Yet the idea itself "is one
single idea.
What is true of the simple sentence thus analysed is true
of all sentences. Thus the truth is plain of what we before
said about a savage, for all human language except the
emotional signs before distinguished necessarily implies
and gives expression to a number of abstract ideas. There-
fore, wherever language exists there the power of abstraction
must exist also. Therefore, again, thought is essentially
anterior to speech, and the latter is its consequence. It
may exist where the faculty of speech is wanting, and may
be expressed by gestures, which are also often made use of
by those who can speak, to convey a knowledge of their
thoughts and meaning to others. Similarly, inarticulate
sounds may also be made use of for the last-mentioned
purpose.
In addition, then, to the three forms of merely emotional
language before enumerated, there are three forms of intel-
lectual language, as follows :
(i) Sounds which are rational but not articulate, such as
the inarticulate ejaculations by which we sometimes express
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 189
assent to, or dissent from, given propositions. Such in-
articulate sounds are intellectual, because they depend on
the propositions referred to having been understood, and
are used to show that such is the case and what is the nature
of the judgment which may have been formed about them.
(2) Sounds which are both rational and articulate, such as
are used in conversation, and which constitute speech or
vocal language proper.
(3) Gestures which give external expression to internal
rational conceptions, and therefore are " external," though
not ' ' oral, ' ' manifestations of abstract thought. One special
manual expression of such abstract thought is writing or
the making of any pictorial signs.
Thus the essence of language as ordinarily understood
language used for the communication of ideas is an intel-
lectual activity. This is necessarily mental, and the root of
speech is therefore the " mental word," or verbum mentale.
The natural result or consequence of this is the external
expression, or speech the " spoken word," or verbum oris.
This is the normal consequence, but it can be replaced by
gesture or bodily expression to verbum corporis sed non oris.
It is evident that a man may be dumb and yet possess the
mental word, though he is accidentally hindered from giving
it expression by the spoken word ; but he can still do so by
gestures or writing the verbum corporis as long as he is
not paralysed. Should he become so, he would be deprived
of all means of external expression, while he might, never-
theless, still be in possession of the verbum mentale.
Now we believe that all the external signs of which mere
animals are capable are explicable as forms of the lower of
the two categories of human language the language of
emotion. We are also convinced that many forms of ex-
ternal expression, of which human beings incapable of
speech are reduced to make use, are fully and truly as in-
190 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
tellectual as is the articulate language ordinarily used and
intended to convey ideas. To this question of the distinc-
tion between emotional and intellectual language, then, we
will now directly address ourselves.
It has been contended by some persons that there is no
essential difference between the language of men and that
of animals, and this contention has been based on two asser-
tions: (i) that verbal expressions in us precede correspond-
ing conscious mental conceptions, and (2) that brutes by
sounds and gestures can express ideas and so actually con-
vey a knowledge of the facts to which their ideas relate.
-No one has advocated these views more zealously than
the late Professor Romanes, 1 who, as an exceptionally can-
did and careful writer, may well serve as the best type of
the school to which he belonged.
He brings forward many instances which he considers
justify his opinion. Thus he tells us of a wasp, which, on
finding a store of honey, returned to the nest, and in a short
time brought off a hundred other wasps. But surely there
is no need to suppose that here any intellectual communi-
cation had been made, but merely an instinctive com-
munication inducing an instinctive response. Unfortunately,
superior as Mr. Romanes was to most of the advocates of
animal rationality, some of the tales he allows himself to
quote plainly show how saturated with prejudice their nar-
rators must have been. Thus, respecting some South
American ants, Mr. Belt is quoted as saying: " I noticed a
sort of assembly of about a dozen individuals that appeared
to be in consultation. Suddenly one ant left the conclave,
and ran with great speed up the perpendicular face of the
cutting without stopping." Shortly " information was
communicated to the ants below, and a dense column rushed
up in search of prey."
1 In his book, entitled Mental Evolution in Man, before referred to.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE IQI
We have quoted this passage as a typical example of
increasing unconscious exaggeration. A dozen ants in
proximity are first called " a sort of assembly." Now any
creatures which happen to come together in close proximity
may, in a certain vague sense, be said to assemble ; but the
word " assembly " implies more than that. This implica-
tion is further intensified by the declaration that the ants
" appeared to be in consultation," though no fact in addi-
tion to physical proximity is given as justifying such a
purely fanciful interpretation. Finally, the implication is
driven home by calling these physically approximated ants
" a conclave." If those who narrate things of this kind
would content themselves with accurately describing the
facts they witness, the gain would be great indeed.
Such an account has been given l by one careful observer,
Mr. G. Larden. He tells us of a small South American
species of ant which makes a large nest underground with a
network of paths converging to the nest.
" These paths," he says, " are of all lengths, from ten yards up
to one hundred yards. As a general rule, one may say that
streams of ants, carrying leaves, buds, flowers, seeds, and other
valuable odds and ends, are always moving towards the nest, while
empty-mouthed ants are meeting and passing them on their out-
ward journey to the foraging grounds."
He then tried the experiment of turning some of these laden
home-going carriers round, when they had nearly reached
home.
" The general conclusion I came to," he continues, " was that
these ants did not then understand in what direction the nest lay,
nor did they (as far as I could see) draw any conclusions from the
fact that they now met the stream of carriers with which they had
1 In Nature for May 29, 1890, p. 115.
IQ2 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
previously been travelling. Thus, one ant carrying a (relatively)
huge burden I reversed in direction when already near the nest.
I then followed it for about eight yards (or about twenty minutes
of time as far as I can say) in its mistaken reversed course away
from the nest. Though it met and collided with quantities of
burdened ants, and was passed in the same direction as its own
by unburdened ants only, it did not seem to take the hint. Its
final return home was the result of accident, as far as I could tell
it having got up the right way round after a severe fall. . . .
I dug a hole in one of the paths on several occasions. The hole
was small, and it was easy, though not so convenient, to go round
by the side over the very short grass. Nevertheless, it required
the falling of very many ants into the hole, and the leaving of
quite a pile of leaves there, before the stream learned to pass
about one inch to one or the other side, and so to avoid the pit-
fall. Some ants even turned back ; and I left them carrying
their burdens back to the foraging grounds again."
This statement quite accords with some observations we
have ourselves made.
As to higher animals and the asserted use by them of
gesture language, Mr. Romanes cites l a case recorded by
James Forbes, F.R.S., of a male monkey, which was said
to have begged back the body of a female which had just
been shot: " The animal came to the door of the tent, and,
finding threats of no avail, began a lamentable moaning,
and by the most expressive gestures seemed to beg for the
dead body. It was given to him ; he took it sorrowfully in
his arms and bore it away to his expecting companions."
One would like to know what the gestures were. Nothing
less than the actions essentially like those used in our ballets
would justify their being called " most expressive."
A Captain Johnson is also cited as having seen a monkey
which he had wounded run down a tree towards him. He
1 Op. cit., p. 100.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE IQ3
then " stopped suddenly, and coolly put his paw to the part
wounded covered with blood, and held it out for me to see."
Finally, Sir William Hoste is referred to as having re-
corded that
" one of his officers coming home after a long day's shooting, saw
a female monkey running along the rocks with her young one in
her arms. He immediately fired and the animal fell. On his
coming up she grasped her little one close to her breast, and with
her other hand pointed to the wound which the ball had made,
and which had entered above her breast. Dipping her finger in
the blood and holding it up, she seemed to reproach him with
having been the cause of her pain, and also that of the young
one, to which she frequently pointed."
Now, that these narratives repose on a basis of truth is
not to be doubted, neither is the perfect good faith of the
narrators to be suspected. That the mother ape hugged
her young one, that the wounded animals made gestures
due to anger, pain, terror, or distress, is not to be ques-
tioned. But it is only too evident that the kind-hearted
sportsmen read, in such movements, motives and meanings
due to their own fertile imaginations. Such mistaken in-
ferences are not to be wondered at on the part of military
men, who may well have been unskilled in scientific observa-
tion, and little read in either psychology or philosophy.
But a very curious tale is told by Mr. Romanes himself
with respect to an American monkey of his, which had
found out the way to unscrew the handle of that object
which is often so much too easily unscrewed, namely, a
hearth-brush. He delighted in screwing it on and off, and
soon began to unscrew all the unscrewable articles so as to
become a nuisance to the household. This showed that
the monkey, we are told, 1 had " discovered the mechanical
1 Op. tit., p. 61.
13
IQ4 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
principle of the screw " an " intelligent recognition of a
principle discovered by the most unwearying perseverance
in the way of experiment "(!). But to do what this
monkey did, needed as little the " intelligent recognition of
a principle " as any white mouse needed such knowledge to
learn to make rotating objects go round, or as a canary,
which had learnt to pull up a small vessel of water suspended
by a thread, need apprehend " principles" of mechanics
and hydrostatics. We are also informed that the monkey,
" however often he was disappointed at the beginning [of
the screwing process], never was induced to try turning the
handle the other way; he always screwed from right to
left." This would seem to show (on Mr. Romanes's method
of interpretation) that the monkey had much greater intel-
ligence than is possessed by many human beings, who often
do try screwing the wrong way when their efforts to screw
the right way have not succeeded.
But it is yet further asserted that the animal, having dis-
covered this " mechanical principle, proceeded forthwith to
generalise " concerning the objects thus mischievously un-
screwed, screwed, and unscrewed again. We are gravely
assured, as to the separated parts, that the monkey " was
by no means careful always to replace them ' ' as if it was
ever careful so to do, and as if those which were replaced,
were replaced by a sort of quasi-ethical deliberate intention.
With respect to apes, we have always to be on our guard
against the deceptive effects of their tricks and ways, due to
the close resemblance which exists between their bodily
frame and our own. On this account, if two actions essen-
tially similar are done, one by a pig and the other by an ape,
the latter would necessarily appear in our eyes to be far
more of a " human " action.
This may, in fact, account for the curious overestimate
above cited of the action of the American monkey so fond
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE IQ5
of screws. But other instances are given still more open to
criticism.
The climax of absurdity, however, is attained in an anec-
dote of a talking bird, 1 which our esteem and regard for the
late Professor Romanes do not allow us here to more than
refer to.
The vast difference between the emotional gesture-
language of animals and the intellectual gestures of men is
apparent, while those of infants show that mental concep-
tions may precede verbal expressions. Colonel Mallery *
has remarked that
" the wishes and emotions of very young children are conveyed
in a small number of sounds, but in a great variety of gestures
and facial expressions. A child's gestures are intelligent long in
advance of speech, although very early and persistent attempts
are made to give it instruction in the latter, but none in the
former, from the time when it begins risu cognoscere matrem. It
learns .words only as they are taught, and learns them through
the medium of signs which are not expressly taught. Long
after familiarity with speech, it consults the gestures and facial
expressions of its parents and nurses, as if seeking thus to trans-
late and explain words. . . . The insane understand and
obey gestures when they have no knowledge whatever of words.
. . . Sufferers from aphasia continue to use appropriate gest-
ures."
The same authority also tells us that Indians from the
West, who have been brought into the Eastern States,
" have often succeeded in holding intercourse, by means of their
invention and application of principles in what may be called the
voiceless mother utterance, with white deaf-mutes, who surely
1 See op, cit., p. 190.
2 In his memoir on " Sign -language among the North American Indians,"
First A nnual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology. Washington , 1 88 1 .
196 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
have no semiotic code more nearly connected with that attributed
to the Indians than is derived from their common humanity.
They showed the greatest pleasure in meeting deaf-mutes, pre-
cisely as travellers in a foreign country are rejoiced to meet
persons speaking their language."
Mr. Romanes himself has given 1 a very interesting ac-
count of a conversation held between two Indians of differ-
ent races, and carried on exclusively by gestures, beginning
as follows :
4 Which of the north-eastern tribes is yours ? "
" Mountain river men."
'* How many days from mountain river ? "
" Moon new and full three times," etc.
A deaf-mute from Washington is said 3 to have related to
some Indians, that
" when he was a boy he went to a melon field, tapped several
melons, finding them to be green or unripe ; finally reaching a
good one, he took a knife, cut a slice and ate it. A man made
his appearance on horseback, entered the path on foot, found the
cut melon, and, detecting the thief, threw the melon towards him,
hitting him in the back, whereupon he ran away crying. The
man mounted, and rode off in the opposite direction."
Another story of the kind, also told in gesture-language
only, was much appreciated by the Indians, and completely
understood.
A truly wonderful amount of abstract thought was thus
expressed and apprehended by means of gesture only. And
there is no evidence that speech generated or facilitated
gesture, but rather the contrary, while it is very evident
amongst many peoples notably in the more southern part
of Europe how very much gesture aids and enforces the
1 Op. '/., p. 108. 2 Ibid., p. 112.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE IQ/
meaning of speech. No doubt speech has greatly, must
have greatly, aided the elaboration of ideas, and so enriched
the mental pabulum for gesture-language ; but it can have
had no tendency to develop gesture-language itself, but
rather the contrary, speech being so rapid and serviceable an
agent compared with gesture only.
Deaf-mutes possessing an extraordinary manual dexterity
in signifying their ideas, could never have inherited it from
speaking ancestors, while they may well be supposed to have
inherited the structure common to those ancestors as the
physical means of speech. The nervous conditions relating
to abundant gesticulation, on the other hand, must have
been going through a process of atrophy for ages during all
the many generations of these loquacious ancestors of such
deaf-mutes. The latter also seem to have a special construc-
tion of their own in their gesture sentences a mode of con-
struction which could never have been inherited from their
speaking forefathers.
This special and peculiar construction is stated ' by Mr.
Romanes to be uniform in different countries. The deaf-
mutes " do not say ' black horse,' but ' horse black ' ; not
' bring a black hat/ but ' hat black bring'; not ' I am
hungry, give me bread,' but ' hungry me, bread give.' '
But such modes of construction answer every practical pur-
pose, and are as distinctly intellectual as any others.
The innate intellectuality of, and voluntary purposive
expression of ideas by, gesture is made specially clear in
the following statement, 2 which also shows how the deaf and
dumb express first that idea which they are most anxious to
impress on those they address :
" If a boy had struck another boy, and the injured party came
to tell us, if he was desirous to acquaint us with the idea that a
1 Op. at., p. 114. * Ibid., p. 115.
198 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
particular boy did it, he would point to the boy first. But if he
was anxious to draw attention to his own suffering rather than to
the person by whom it was caused, he would point to himself and
make the act of striking, and then point to the boy."
The celebrated Abbe" Sicard asked a deaf and dumb pupil,
" Who made God ? " The answer he received is very re-
markable from the highly abstract conception which it
showed was present in the pupil's mind. His answer was,
44 God made nothing," meaning thereby that nothing what-
ever made God i. e., that God was not made by anything,
but was self-subsisting.
The deaf and dumb express a conjunctive sentence by an
alternate contrast. Thus the sentence " I must love and
honour my teacher " would be expressed thus, " Teacher I
beat, deceive, scold, no! I love, honour, yes!" This is
logical enough in spite of being a roundabout mode of
expression.
Colonel Mallery's evidence is invaluable. His account
of such an enunciation of the parable of the prodigal son by
signs is an example of an extremely elaborated instance of
the use of gesture-language. It is as follows :
" Once man one, sons two. Son younger say, Father property
your divide : part my me give. Father so. Son each, part his
give. Days few after, son younger money all take, country far
go, money spend, wine drink, food nice eat. Money by-and-bye
gone all. Country everywhere food little. Son hungry very.
Go seek man any, me hire. Gentleman meet. Gentleman son
send field swine feed. Son swine husks eat, see self husks eat
want cannot husks him give nobody. Son thinks, say, father
my, servants many, bread enough, part give away can I none
starve, die. I decide : Father I go to, say I had, God disobey,
you disobey name my hereafter son no I unworthy. But
father servants call, command robe best bring, son put on, ring
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 199
finger put on, shoes feet put on, calf fat bring, kill. We all eat,
merry, why ? Son this formerly dead, now alive : formerly lost,
now found : rejoice."
Even that most abstract of all ideas, the idea of " being "
or " existence," can be expressed by deaf-mutes. Colonel
Mallery tells us that the sign they use to express this is
stretching the arms and hands forward, and then adding the
sign of affirmation."
The idea of " equality " they can also signify by extend-
ing the index fingers side by side asL when repeating the
expression in the Lord's Prayer, " As in heaven." We
see, then, how intellectual conceptions may be expressed,
and distinct statements as to fact made the copula remain-
ing latent and implicit by this wonderful language of
gesture. By its means the most lofty abstractions can be
both mentally entertained and externally expressed. Church
services for deaf congregations are carried out by gesture
only.
That born mutes, without any teaching, do sometimes
make vocal sounds more or less articulate is an unquestioned
fact, and though we will not assert, we certainly suspect,
the existence in man of an instinctive tendency to produce
such sounds and to signify meaning by gesture. When
once anyone has a meaning to convey, he must, if he can
succeed in conveying it, convey it by some visible, audible,
or tactile sign. The employment of any one means must
be due to an internal impulse. How else could the language
of gesture have arisen ?
Therefore, if there ever was such a thing as a human com-
munity entirely dumb, a natural and instinctive language of
gesture would, we are persuaded, be evolved by it. We are
thus persuaded, not only on a priori grounds, but also from
the evidence afforded by such extraordinary examples of de-
200 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
fective existence as that of Laura Bridgman and the still
more striking case of Martha Obrecht. The former is a
well-known case of a girl who was blind as well as deaf,
and had become so afflicted when too young to have retained
any recollection of seeing or hearing. Yet she learned to
apprehend abstract relations and qualities, and to read and
write.
Martha Obrecht * was deaf, dumb, and blind, and was
confided to the care of the nuns at a convent at Larnay
(Poictiers) when eight yeafs old. Then, by intelligent and
patient instruction, she was enabled gradually to acquire
the power of apprehending and expressing intellectual con-
ceptions, and highly abstract and lofty ideas, with distinct
and clear moral and religious notions. She was also taught
not only to read but to write perfectly well.
When first received she was a living, almost inert, mass,
with no means of communicating with her fellow-creatures,
though she emitted cries and made certain movements in
response to impressions she received. The first thing was
to give her some means of communication, and this was
done by making her touch different objects, and then touch-
ing her in different ways appropriate to each object, so that
each mode of touching became a sign to her of that object.
Thus, when a piece of bread was given her, she was made,
as it were, to cut her left hand with her right. Very soon
when hungry she began to make that sign herself. When
she did anything wrong she was slightly pushed away, and
thus she soon learnt to push away from her things she did
not like ; and so little by little from one point to another her
intellectual development was slowly completed.
It may be, as it has been, objected to these facts, that they
show no more than the influence on an infant of a long line
1 See Apologie Scientijique, by Canon F. Duilhe de Saint-Projet, pp. 374-387.
Toulouse, 1885.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 2OI
of ancestors all capable of speech. But, as we before re-
marked, there could have been no inherited nervous structure
and conditions specially related to gesture-language. Yet
it was exclusively by gesture-language that the latent intel-
ligence of Martha Obrecht was developed.
Thus thought is evidently the cause, and not the effect,
of language.
We have said that the idea of " being " or " existence "
can be expressed by gesture, and also that the copula is
habitually implied and latent in gesture-language. But its
existence is, of course, no less effectively real because it is
thus latent. In every gesture statement, as in every orally
expressed proposition, the predication of existence is most
important. Its importance has been disputed on the ground
that " merely to say a thing is, is to form the most barren
(least significant) judgment about it." Now, of course, it
is manifest that so to affirm is to give the minimum of in-
formation about any object; but though it tells us little as
regards extent of information, it yet tells us a truth of the
most profound and intensely important kind. The reader
will readily appreciate how much more important to him is
his " existence " than a variety of other properties with
which he would be much less unwilling to part.
Having, we trust, to our reader's satisfaction, shown the
essential rationality which may be possessed by deaf-mutes,
we will next point out what we regard as the essential,
though latent, intellectuality of infants. We contend that
evidence shows intellect to be potentially present, i. e. y that
the normal conditions being supplied, it will infallibly come
to show itself as actually present. On the other hand, no
evidence plainly indicates that it is potentially present in
brutes, and that changes of mere environment can make it
actual. We are, as we said before, perfectly willing to
recognise the intellectuality of animals as soon as we can
202 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
obtain any evidence thereof. All evidence we have been
able to obtain, however, points, we think, the other way.
But Professor Romanes seemed extraordinarily blind to
the intellectuality of even his own children. Thus we read 1
that a daughter of his, aged rather more than eighteen
months, called first her brother, and then other children,
" ilda," and then whenever she came upon a representation
of a sheep with lambs, she would point to the sheep and
say mama ha, white of the lambs she would say ilda ba.
Nevertheless, he affirms that in her case formal predication
had not begun. On the other hand, we regard these utter-
ances of the child as distinctly intelligent predications.
Similarly, he denies that a child two years old, who says
dit ki (sister is crying) makes an intellectual assertion. But
in saying those two words the child really enunciates a true
judgment composed of two concepts and an implied copula.
If such were not the case, if the child did not consciously
perceive both his sister and her crying condition, the state-
ment would be mere meaningless babble. But, of course,
the child does not advert to such psychical facts and recog-
nise what it says with reflex consciousness. Such a mental
act is but rarely performed even by an adult.
But much simpler, merely monosyllabic, utterances may
be true implicit judgments. Thus when a child on seeing
a dog looks up at her nurse and, pointing, says " bow-
wow," or taking food exclaims " ot " (hot), or letting fall a
toy says " dow " (down), it may thereby express what is
truly a judgment in each case. For in what respect does
the utterance of the monosyllable " ot " differ from " dit
ki " ? It merely differs in the emission of two sounds in-
stead of one. " Ot " really means as much as do the two
sounds " dit ki " namely, that the child's food is hot. In
one case the meaning of a sentence is conveyed by two
1 Op, dt., p. 218.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 203
i
articulate sounds, and in the other by the utterance of a
monosyllable. The latter mode is in no way inferior except
that it seems incapable of being adapted to express the com-
plex ideas of later life. But very frequently the monosyl-
labic mode is made use of by adults and fully understood.
Suppose some men are watching, at a distance, certain birds
indistinctly seen, and that they are trying to make out what
they really are. When one man, having made sure, cries
out "Grouse ! " it is as true and clear an expression of a judg-
ment as would be the four words, " Those birds are grouse."
If it were only possible to follow out that mode without the
danger of confusion, then the use of monosyllables to express
whole sentences, instead of being inferior, would be the very
highest ideal of language. This reflection brings us natur-
ally to the consideration of different forms of language and
its possible origin. But there is one form of language which
exists, abundantly in low as well as in higher races of man-
kind, and that is metaphorical language. But what is
metaphor, and what sort of being must that have been
which first employed it ?
Had not the intellect the power of apprehending, through
the senses, and expressing, by bodily signs, what is beyond
the reach of mere sense-perception, metaphor would not and
could not exist. Neither could it exist if thought was the
mere outcome of language, and followed it, instead of the
opposite. It is precisely because speech is too narrow for
thought, and because words are too few adequately to make
known the ideas of the mind, that metaphor exists. It is
interesting also to note that figurative, metaphorical lan-
guage is natural, and especially abundant amongst various
savage and semi-savage tribes. Few things would be more
unwise than to take the plainest and most material mean-
ings of primitive words as being necessarily their only
meanings. Figure or metaphor has been occasioned by
2O4 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
poverty and sterility of visible and audible signs, but their
cause is the wealth and fruitfulness of thought. Probably
many primitive terms had double meanings from the first.
As Carlyle has said, " An unmetaphorical style you shall
seek in vain, for is not ypur very attention a stretching to ? "
The sensuous element in language is but a necessary conse-
quence of our animal nature, and the necessity of phantas-
mata of the imagination as supports to (as before said) even
our most abstract thoughts. It does not follow from this
that thought once was mere sensation, but, on the contrary,
it manifests the wonderful spontaneity of the human intel-
lect, whence, by the help of the " beggarly elements " sup-
plied by the senses, the loftiest concepts spontaneously
spring forth like Athene, armed with the sharp spear of
intellectual perception, and swathed in the ample mantle
of signs, woven of the warp of matter and the woof of
thought.
It is just this power of metaphor-making which most
plainly displays to us the intellect in its creative energy,
giving rise to new external expressions for freshly arising
internal perceptions. This power belongs to man alone, and
no one even pretends that any brute can evolve a metaphor.
It is ethical propositions especially which demonstrate to
us that a higher meaning must be latent in terms which to
some persons seem merely sensuous. For everyone must
admit either (i) that he does not really know what an ethical
proposition means, that he does not know the difference be-
tween right and wrong, or (2) that he recognises it as a dis-
tinction toto ccelo divergent from every other, and one which,
as before pointed out, 1 could have had none but an ethical
origin, and therefore could never have been evolved from
the sensuous life and perceptions of mere animals.
As folly or prejudice makes tales of animal intelligence so
1 See ante, p. 166.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 2O$
often quite untrustworthy, so also the statements as to the
mental defects of savages are hardly less so. Love of the
marvellous, credulity, exaggeration, and, above all, hasty
and inconclusive inferences, abound in both. Mr. Tylor,
who has devoted his life to the study of such things, has
again and again protested to this effect.
It has, for example, been objected against the intellectual
ability of the Society Islanders that they have separate
words for " dog's tail," " bird's tail," " sheep's tail," etc.,
but no word for tail itself i. e., tail in general. But, really,
the experience of the use of that word by ourselves leads us
to consider the condition of these Islanders in this respect to
be no great misfortune. We have our word " tail " tail
in general and it is constantly made use of in a way which
is hopelessly misleading. To use the same term, as we do,
for what we call the " tails " of a peacock, a monkey, and
a lobster is, so far, to be in a worse plight than that asserted
of the Society Islander.
Much has been said about some savages being unable to
say " I." Thus Professor Sayce tells us that a Malay who
would mean " I " says ulun that is, " a man " in Lampong
and also that at least one other race expresses the idea " a
man in a similar manner.
But that is of not the slightest consequence as regards the
intellectuality of the speaker. Asa child will say " Charley
don't like it," meaning I do not like it," so if an adult
Englishman were to speak of himself as " this one here,"
pointing to his breast, his meaning would be as clear as if
he articulated the sound " I."
It has been supposed that the Grebo two sounds " ni ne,"
which may mean "I do it " or " you do not," according to
the context and gestures of the speaker, may be taken as
evidence of conscious speaking in the making. Yet we have
in our own language equivalent instances of the explication
206 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
of sound by context or gesture. Thus the expression " my
work " may be shown to signify either " I do it " or " you
do not." A man may say " my work," pointing to the
product with a look showing lively satisfaction at being able
to boast himself as the performer of so remarkable a feat ;
or he may say " my work " while pointing to his own body,
with a look of indignation at the idea of anyone else pretend-
ing to have done it.
A few further examples of what have been deemed forms
of predication so low as to border on mere sensuous and
animal language, must here suffice.
We have been told by Mr. Romanes ' that if a Dyak
wants to say " Thy father is, or looks, old," he has, for want
of words, to put together such expressions as " father of
thee," " age of him." Also he says that if such a man
wants to say of another " He is wearing a white jacket," the
form of the statement would be "he with white with
jacket," or more tersely, " he jackety whitey." But this
does not in the least tell against the presence of distinct in-
tellectual meaning in the utterance of such phrases. They
may strike the imagination of some persons so as to call up
a smile, but in sober truth, as regards meaning (which is the
only important thing), the expression, " he jackety whitey,"
is essentially as good as the expression, " The external upper
garment of that man is of the colour of the driven snow."
If in Fiji the response " I will " is expressed by the form
" will of me," that surely is sufficient. It would be easy
enough to parallel such rendering by means of examples
from English slang.
No doubt the parts of speech of English grammarians
may be, in their external form, inapplicable to the Polynes-
ian languages. But the fact, however interesting, has no
significance as regards the essentially abstract nature of the
1 Op. fit., p. 317.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 2O/
ideas conveyed. Our expression, " I will eat rice," may
require to be rendered, " The eating of me the rice; my
eating will be of the rice." But such expressions are quite
reasonable and logical.
If it can be pointed out of any object that it is here, or
there, or thus, or sitting, or standing, or waiting, there can
be no doubt whatever of the implication that it is that it
exists even though no special articular sound may be de-
voted to the explicit assertion that such is the case. And
how great is the significance of that small word " is " ! If
a brute could think " is," brute and man would indeed be
brothers. ' Is," as the copula of a judgment, implies the
mental separation and recombination of two terms that only
exist united in nature, and can therefore never have im-
pressed our sensitive faculty except as one thing. ;< Is,"
again, considered as a substantive verb, as in the example,
' This man is," contains in itself the application of the
copula of judgment to the most elementary of all abstrac-
tions " thing " or " something." Yet if a being has the
power of thinking " thing" or " something," it has the
power of transcending space and time by dividing or decom-
posing the phenomenally one ideally separating the in-
dividuality, or haecceity, of an object or idea from its
existence. This is an act done with reflex consciousness by
philosophers, but entirely without advertence by the im-
mense majority of mankind. Here is the point where
instinct " is entirely left behind and where reason has
begun.
We have now examined and reviewed the several asserted
cases here considered as giving the best clue to the real
nature of animal language. If we are right in deeming that
no evidence has been brought forward to show that brutes
can evolve and entertain abstract ideas, it is plain they can-
not possess intellectual language, since the presence of such
2O8 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
mental abstraction is a sine qua non for its existence. No
doubt the songs and calls of birds have, in a sense, meanings
which are practically understood by their fellows. Some
dogs will make certain facts, e. g., the presence of a rat or a
thief, known to their masters, and may also indicate which
of the two it is by the kind of sound they make. Pointers
and setters, by their movements and the postures they
assume, will make known other facts, while parrots and
jackdaws can be taught to articulate whole sentences. All
this is very true, but it is nothing to the purpose, because it
does not surpass that lower emotional language which we
also possess. We have, we hope, sufficiently shown how
truly intellectual may be the language of gesture which
mutes can use. Could animals do likewise, could any of
them by gestures make us understand what the language of
pantomime used in certain ballets can very plainly signify,
there would be no need for them to utter sounds such
movements alone would be amply sufficient to demonstrate
to us their rationality. And they have ample bodily powers
so to do, especially the apes, which are so like us in struct-
ure. Their senses, also, are quite keen enough to give them
ideas about the things they sensuously perceive, were they
not destitute of some higher faculty such as enables us to
form intellectual conceptions. On the other hand, they
might do much more by sound and gesture than they do,
and yet neither possess nor express such conceptions. It is
quite conceivable that a parrot might learn to utter certain
words which, by teaching, he has come to associate with
something pleasant to follow, just as a dog who " begs "
has associated that felt gesture with the imagination of bis-
cuit which he has habitually received after begging. But
such actions and imaginations do not tend even to bridge
over the chasm which exists between intellectual speech and
the language of emotion.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 2Og
Similarly, dogs or pigs, trained to select from a number
of cards with letters on them, those bearing the letters
CAKE, are animals very curiously and ingeniously trained ;
but their actions prove nothing more than that there has
been established in their imagination sensuous associations
similar to those which have been formed in the psychical
nature of any dog that " begs."
It now only remains to consider what may be said with
respect to the origin of human speech. In the absence of
all direct evidence only more or less plausible hypotheses
are possible. One thing, however, we regard as quite cer-
tain, and that is that thought, the verbum mentale, was
anterior to the verbum oris. The phenomena presented by
deaf-mutes are sufficient to show that abstract ideas can
exist without spoken words, and that oral terms are the con-
sequence of thought ordinary experience suffices to prove.
When, in the cultivation of any new science or art, newly
observed facts or newly devised processes give rise to new
conceptions, new terms are invented to give expression to
such conceptions. Thus new words arise as a consequent,
and not as an antecedent, of such intellectual action. New
terms are always fitted to fresh ideas, and not fresh ideas to
new terms. Whoever attentively follows the mental de-
velopment of a child, will see that in it also, notions are
formed spontaneously, and often give rise to new words of
the child's own coining.
The antecedence of thought is also shown by the wonder-
ful rapidity far exceeding the rapidity of speech with
which the mind may detect a fallacy in an argument. And
such detection is always due to some reason our mind per-
ceives to be fatal, it may be, to a long chain of reasoning.
A mere cry or gesture of negation may be the sign of intel-
lectual perceptions which would require more than one
sentence to express fully, but which are perceived too rapidly
210 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
for even the mental repetition of the words of such sentences.
We have seen how deaf-mutes may spontaneously evolve
a gesture-language, through which they can convey ideas to
one another. Dr. W. W. Ireland has recorded 1 the case of
a boy who could not speak ordinary words, and yet had in-
vented a few of his own, to which he attached fixed mean-
ings. Thus he said ' ' weep-oo ' ' for night or black ; ' ' burly ' '
for wood or for a carpenter; " tatteras " for soldiers, and so
on. An analogous case has come within our own experience,
and Dr. Bastian has described another, 2 which seems to show
that the faculty of rational speech is so potentially present
in us that it sometimes manifests itself spontaneously and
very unexpectedly. It appears that in 1877 he was con-
sulted concerning the health of a boy of twelve, occasionally
subject to fits. When five years old he had not spoken, but
before another year had passed, on the occasion of an acci-
dent happening to one of his favourite toys, he suddenly ex-
claimed, " What a pity! " which were his very first words.
He was then silent for a fortnight, but thereafter became
very talkative. A medical friend of ours was much alarmed
about his son (now an eminent medical man himself), be-
cause he was long unable to speak, though he showed
clearly by an elaborate language of gesture that he had
very distinct intellectual conceptions which, after a time,
he began to express vocally. The cases of Laura Bridgman
and Martha Obrecht have been already described. 3
Speech has, in many cases, been shown to be reducible to
a certain number of probably primitive terms called ' ' roots, ' '
and a large number of these denote some kind of action or
movement. On this account the suggestion has been made
1 Idiocy and Imbecility, p. 276. Churchill, 1877.
2 The Brain as an Organ of Mind, p. 606. Kegan Paul, Trench and Co.
1880.
8 See ante, p. 200.
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 211
that speech arose through a custom which grew up of emit-
ting peculiar sounds when performing certain actions, as
seamen and others often utter sounds in common when
working together.
But it is conceded by all that speech could not have'arisen
except by the utterance of sounds, the meaning of which
was understood both by those who uttered them and those
who heard them. Speech requires an apprehending intelli-
gence on the part of the hearer as well as on the part of the
speaker if it is to be more than a monologue. Without the
attainment of this mutual comprehension spoken language
could never have arisen. It is true, of course, that one man
performing some act in the presence of others would know
what he was about while the onlookers would know it also,
and thus a sound repeated by him while so acting might
generate a term to denote such action, which term would be
understood by him and by those who saw and heard him.
But for this it must have been necessary to have the mental
conception of what was being done, that is, an abstract idea.
If the man acting and the onlookers only uttered the sound
accidentally, without will and intention, and then repeated
it automatically, and not as a sign deliberately meant, such
sounds (articulate or not) could be no form of speech. It
is evident none of them could understand or apply it except
by first acquiring the idea or conception itself. Therefore
the doctrine, " Speech begot reason," cannot be maintained,
for speech cannot exist without the existence with it of that
intellectual activity of which it is the external expression.
As well might the concavities of a curved line be supposed
to exist without f its convexities, as the spoken word be sup-
posed to have arisen prior to the idea which it represents.
Experience shows us, as we have already observed, that it is
new thoughts which generate new words, and not the re-
verse. As the deaf-mutes teach us, rational conceptions
212 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
can exist without words. The intellect is the common
root from which both thought and language (whether of
word or gesture) spring.
This radical distinction between sounds denoting abstract
ideas and sounds which are but the expression of emotional
feeling is the distinction between the language (whether of
speech or gesture) of men on the one hand and of animals
on the other. That we cannot imagine how so fundamental
a distinction arose should be no bar to our recognising its
existence as a fact. This break, or new departure, in the
order of nature is by no means an isolated one. There is an
absolute break between the living world and the world de-
void of life ; and though it is true that at some period life
for the first time appeared upon the surface of this planet,
whenever it did so appear, there must have been a breach
of continuity and a new departure, which is no whit less cer-
tain because we cannot imagine how it took place. We are
convinced there was another breach of continuity and a
fresh new departure when the first organisms appeared which
were capable of sensation.
That all the higher animals " feel " will not be disputed.
They give abundant evidence of sensitivity, and they
possess the special living substance nervous tissue which
we know is the organ of sensation in ourselves. But the
world of plants affords us no such evidence. The move-
ments of the leaves of some as notably of the sensitive
plant and of Venus's fly-trap might be thought so to do,
but they are explicable without sensitivity. That the
vegetable world is devoid of sensation is what should be ex-
pected, since plants are devoid of all trace of a nervous
system ; and it is a universally admitted biological law that
structure and function vary together. If, then, there are
any organisms whatever which do not feel, while certain
other organisms do feel, then (as a gate must be shut or not
LANGUAGE AND SCIENCE 21$
shut) there is and must be a break and distinction between
the one and the other.
But it may be objected : " The transition is so gradual, it
is impossible to draw a hard and fast line between sentient
and insentient organisms." Even if this assertion be true,
such an objection would be of no avail, because an appar-
ently continuous and uninterrupted course of action is often
not really such, but only seems to be so on account of our
organisation our very limited power of vision.
Let us suppose an action to take place at precisely such a
rate as to permit of our seeing its steps separated from each
other by just appreciable intervals; then we have but to
suppose the period needed for our nervous activity to be
slightly increased, and it would necessarily follow we could
no longer perceive the intervals, and the supposed action
would seem to be continuous. Next let us suppose that an
action, which is really interrupted, takes place so quickly
that we cannot perceive the intervals ; we have but to im-
agine our nervous activity accelerated to a sufficient degree
and the intervals would be plainly perceptible to us.
Absolute interruptions and new departures take place
every day in nature. Such, for example, take place at
every junction of the ultimate sexual elements in impregna-
tion and in the final separation of the embryo from the
parent at birth.
Because we cannot imagine the origin of an intellectual
nature or any other origin, no argument thence arises
against such breaches of continuity such new departures.
We cannot imagine them, simply because we cannot see,
feel, or in any way sensuously cognise them. We cannot
perceive them, as we cannot perceive the ultimate constitu-
tion of matter, because we have not been provided with the
organs necessary to minister to such perception. As Pro-
fessor Miers once remarked to us, we cannot perceive them
214 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
any more than we can distinguish colours by listening, how-
ever attentively, with our ears.
But however impotent may be our imagination, our reason
assures us that wherever a distinction of kind exists, there
must also be a breach of continuity, and a new departure.
For a " nature " or a " kind of existence " does not admit
of augmentation or diminution of " greater " or " less "
it simply " is " or " is not," and there is no possibility of
any intermediate condition.
Seeing, then, that there is now existing an absolute differ-
ence between the non-living and the living, and between
non-sentient organisms and those endowed with sensitivity,
we may, on grounds of analogy, deem it antecedently prob-
able (what a study of the question seems to us to make
almost certain) that there is also a breach of continuity and
a new departure in passing from merely sentient creatures
to beings endowed with reason.
The distinction which exists between that lower form of
language, of which mere animals are capable, and by which
they express their feelings and emotions, and that external
manifestation (by words or gestures) of abstract ideas of
which man alone is capable, constitutes the strongest possible
argument for the existence of a difference of kind between
human reason and the cognitive faculties of brutes. A
recognition of the existence of this distinction of kind, then,
removes every cause for doubt and wonder that the intellect
of man should be capable of apprehending absolute truths
to which all the other inhabitants of this planet are blind,
and should dispose us to accept with readiness and without
distrust whatever our highest faculties declare to us to be
absolutely and necessarily true.
CHAPTER VIII
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
WE have now passed through our preliminary inquiries
respecting the objects, methods, and antecedents of
science. We have recognised that there is a real, external
world, the conditions, laws, and relations of which it is the
business of science to investigate, as it is also its business to
take note of the existence, laws, and relations of the investi-
gating human mind. We have seen what are the main
physical and psychical conditions necessary for the very
being of human knowledge, and what are those fundamental
psychical activities of which we must make use for even its
most trifling increase.
In our last two chapters we carefully distinguished be-
tween our lower and our higher mental powers, and it now
becomes our business to direct our whole attention to the
latter, as they are the only tools of which we can make use
in exploring the foundations of science and seeking to ob-
tain a satisfactory Epistemology.
But before we can advance one step further in our inquiry,
we must make sure that the ground beneath our feet is
perfectly solid and secure, so that there shall be no danger
of our falling into an abyss of intellectual nihilism, or a
quagmire of doubt and uncertainty.
We long ago ' remarked that we are all certain about
1 See ante, p. 97.
215
2l6 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
many things, and that certainty is necessary for any real
scientific progress ; and later on l we noted, in an introduct-
ory manner, the absolute certainty which attends our reflex
consciousness. These remarks were necessary preliminaries
to some subsequent considerations which we then brought
forward. Now, however, the time has come for us to study
the question of certainty deliberately and as fully as we are
able, and to call the reader's attention to those considera-
tions which earlier (when speaking of reflex consciousness)
we said we would reserve for a future chapter.
In the first place, it is evident that we must be certain of
something, and that, do what we may, we cannot get rid of
our certainty. For if anyone were to affirm he was certain
of nothing, and that to no proposition could he give an
unhesitating and fully confident assent, he would thereby
contradict himself, for he would at the same time be affirm-
ing the certainty of his own disbelief in and denial of
certainty.
To avoid this charge of self-contradiction, he might, per-
haps, go on to say: " Oh! I do not affirm that there is no
certainty ; I am far from denying that there may be such a
thing; all I affirm is that I doubt everything, even whether
I have any conviction about certainty one way or the other. "
But by so objecting he does not cease to affirm certainty :
all the difference is that his certainty takes a different form
from that before attributed to him. Instead of asserting
the certainty of his denial of certainty, he would thereby
be affirming the certainty that his mind was in a state of
doubt. But that is a matter about which anyone may be as
certain as of any other fact of belief or conviction.
Concerning the present mental state in which anyone
knows himself to be whether it be a state of doubt or be-
lief, or a state of having a sensation of blue or of a sour
1 P. 138.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 21 /
taste he has the most absolute certainty possible ; for it is
a fact concerning which Omnipotence itself is powerless to
deceive him. It may be, indeed, that his sensation of blue
is a merely subjective one, and the sourness he tastes may
be occasioned not by what he puts in his mouth, but by
some abnormal condition of his gustatory nerves or of his
brain. That, however, does not make it in the least the
less certain that he has the sensation he feels. The reality
of the fact of the feeling is in no way lessened by whatever
may have been the cause producing it. Similarly, he may
believe what is the merest delusion, e. g., that his legs are
made of glass, or may doubt what is most evident to his
senses, as that there is light when the sun is shining at
noonday. But none the less, his belief is his belief while
he has it, and so is his doubt, his doubt. Both are, and
can only be, to him just what they are while he is ex-
periencing them. As to this, he has the most absolute
certainty conceivable, that is, the certainty of both his direct
and his reflex consciousness. He can with full conscious-
ness direct his attention on his own mental state and say :
;< I certainly have such a belief, or such a doubt." As to
this, if he thinks about it, no man can really doubt. But a
man, nevertheless, may not think of it, and not having real-
ised that he has a subjective, absolute certainty which no-
thing can even weaken, he may yet fall into an unreasonable
doubt as to his own mental faculties. Being fully aware
that he has in his life made many mistakes, and that most
men also frequently make them, it is conceivable he might
say to himself, " As my faculties have deceived me in
something, may they not deceive me in everything ? What
guarantee have I that they are not always fallacious ? I
cannot get outside myself and compare my convictions with
external realities ; therefore I have no satisfactory evidence
of their truth, and so I really know nothing, and am intel-
2l8 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
lectually, as it were, entirely at sea, drifting I know not
where or how. The idea that I can be really certain about
anything is for me an absurdity. What can I ascertain
about the cause and origin of the faculties I possess ? For
all I can tell, I may be the sport of a demon who amuses
himself with deceiving me in all things! "
But to such a man we would say, Why do you feel this
distrust of your faculties ? It is evident that your want of
certainty about them can only be due to your certainty
about something else.
You are convinced that you cannot surely arrive at truth
because your faculties may be deceptive ; but on what is this
conviction of yours founded ? Why cannot you trust them
all the same ? It is, and must be, owing to your perception
that no one can arrive at conclusions which are themselves
certain by means of premisses which are false, or even uncer-
tain. Now, in this perception of yours you are evidently
quite right, but please observe that you cannot have the
conviction you say you have about it except by trusting
your faculties after all. Therefore, if you are convinced, as
you say you are, about this impossibility of attaining con-
clusions which are certain from false or uncertain premisses,
you must be convinced that your faculties are not always
fallacious, and you must also perceive that your imaginary
demon cannot deceive you in everything.
Therefore, doubt as we may, certainty is the inalienable
possession of even the most absolute sceptic, who, when he
says he is certain of nothing even of his own scepticism
simply contradicts himself, and says what is mere nonsense.
At the outset of this our most important inquiry, namely,
the study of our highest faculties, it is necessary for the
reader thus to see clearly that certainty exists, and that he
not only can but must possess it about some things, or else
pay the penalty of drifting into imbecility and mental im-
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
2I 9
potence. He would, indeed, be compelled to affirm the
certainty of uncertainty, and so to contradict himself, and
to deny the truth of the system he at the same time up-
holds. Such a position is so unspeakably foolish a one,
that it cannot be understood and seriously maintained by
any sane mind.
From this fact it is well to note that an important con-
sequence follows: no proposition, no argument, and no sys-
tem of thought, which logically and necessarily results in
such absolute scepticism, can be valid ; and every system,
argument, and proposition which carries with it such con-
sequences, can thus be shown to be false by a process of
reductio ad absurdum.
Unquestionably, then, certainty exists; but the recogni-
tion of this truth constitutes but a very small step on the
road to an inquiry as to what propositions are most true,
and on what evidence do they depend ?
Now, our imaginary sceptic was shown to have based his
scepticism on the following process of reasoning on the
syllogism :
All conclusions resulting from
uncertain or false premisses
But the declarations of my
mental faculties
are untrustworthy.
. are conclusions resulting
from uncertain or false
premisses.
Therefore, the declarations of
my mental faculties . are untrustworthy.
He, therefore, must have been under the persuasion that
reasoning is the test of truth, and there are not a few persons
who are similarly minded and think that, in order to be ab-
solutely certain about anything, it must be capable of proof,
as also that to accept as true anything which is incapable of
proof, is to accept a conviction blindly.
22O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Of course it is common enough and reasonable enough to
ask for proof to be given with respect to any new or extra-
ordinary statement, and it is most reasonable not to assent
to any proposition which does not possess sufficient evidence.
It is also true that the greater part of our knowledge is
gained by us indirectly, by inference or testimony of some
kind. And thus it has come about that many persons (as
before said) have acquired, half-unconsciously, a persuasion
that to believe anything which cannot be proved is an act
of irrational credulity, and thus a tendency has arisen to
distrust any assertion for which no proof is offered.
But, as we before pointed out, 1 however long our pro-
cesses of proof may be, they must stop somewhere. We
cannot go on reasoning forever if anything is ever to be
proved. Therefore, every valid process of reasoning must
ultimately depend upon propositions which need no proof,
and are undemonstrable not " undemonstrable " because,
like matters which have been taken on trust, we can obtain
no evidence for them, but because they are so luminously
self-evident that they admit of no demonstration, nothing
else being so clearly and necessarily true as they are. We *
have, indeed, just said that it is most reasonable to demand
sufficient evidence for any proposition to which our assent is
demanded. But that evidence need not be external evi-
dence, and the evidence of those ultimate propositions which
need no proof is, and must be, internal evidence. They
carry with them their own evidence, and so are evident in
and by themselves.
Thus the reasoning of our supposed sceptic his syllogism
reposes on premisses which are accepted by him as true
the major very reasonably, though the minor, most mis-
takenly.
Either, therefore, we have no certainty as to anything a
1 See ante, p. 103.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 221
position we have seen to be absurd and untenable or the
propositions upon which our certainty ultimately reposes
are such as are self-evident and need no proof. If, also, it
is reasonable to accept as true, statements which are shown
to be so by reasoning, it must be still more reasonable to ac-
cept propositions which are shown to be true in and by
themselves : which are evident to our intellect as necessarily
true, as is the statement that we have a feeling which at the
time we know by our consciousness we actually possess.
If any reader still has some feeling of dissatisfaction or
discomfort about the self-evidence of ultimate truths, we
would ask him to reconsider the reasoning of our supposed
absolute sceptic. We represented him as objecting that he
could obtain no external evidence as to the correspondence
of his internal convictions with external realities.
Let us then suppose that he could, by some unimaginable
miracle, get outside his present mental state and view his
convictions and the objects they were related to, from out-
side, so that he could compare them one with the other, and
obtain a higher kind of conviction in a secondary mental
state as to their correspondence. But how could he thereby
gain any better assurance as to the objective correspondence
of the convictions of his subjective secondary mental state
with respect to the objective realities of the comparisons he
had originally made ? For this he would need to go outside
himself again, and then again and yet again forever, with-
out ever attaining to any better grounded conviction than
the one wherewith he originally set forth. Sooner or later
he must accept self-evidence as sufficient (as we before
provisionally pointed out), 1 or he must fall into absolute
scepticism, which is a form of idiocy. What other or better
criterion, or ground of belief, could any ultimate truth pos-
sibly have ? Any criterion of an ultimate proposition must
1 See ante, p. 57.
222 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
be contained either in that proposition itself, and so make
it luminously self-evident, or else in something external to
it. Now any external criterion, however complete and
perfect it may be, could only be appreciated by us through
our perception of it and our judgment about it. If a pro-
position suddenly appeared written upon a cloud, or on the
face of the full-moon, we could not on that account accept
it as certainly true till we had examined the evidences which
circumstances could possibly afford us. Our first impres-
sion, of course, would be that we were the victims of a
hallucination, and next, the question of the possibility and
probability of common hallucinations would have to be
taken into consideration. But, finally, and at last, if we
did accept the proposition as true, it would only be because
we perceived that our ultimate judgments about it were
self-evidently so. If the proposition so written were, " Two
added to two make five," we should not believe it to be
true any the more for its inexplicable appearance. By no
external criterion, then, neither by the absurd one just im-
agined, nor by any other, could we be furnished with better
evidence than we already possess. We could but have self-
evidence, after all, as our ultimate criterion. It will be
clearly seen, on reflection, that nothing external no com-
mon consent of mankind, common-sense, or any amount of
human testimony could ever take the place of an ultimate
criterion of knowledge, since some judgment of our own
mind must always decide for us with respect to the existence
and the value of such criteria. Self-evidence, then, is the
necessary and only criterion of truth. The principle of evi-
dence is one which is really ultimate, and must be accepted
under pain either of futile reasoning, or of complete intellect-
ual paralysis. It is, of course, necessarily incapable of demon-
stration or any kind of proof, since it depends on nothing
else. We all of us assume it as a criterion unconsciously,
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 22$
and it is confidently acted on by everyone who reasons.
But when we ponder over the matter, we see that what we
have thus done spontaneously, through the natural activity
of our intellect, has been done most reasonably. Did we
not adopt it, we should not only be utterly unable to think
logically, but should be plunged into the most utter and
most absurd mental disorganisation.
On the other hand, by recognising that criterion for what
it must be, and is, we gain a secure foundation for our
knowledge, and are enabled to make progress in science.
Our mental condition is, by such recognition, transformed
from a hopeless chaos into an orderly cosmos.
It has now, we trust, been made sufficiently clear to the
attentive reader (what has been incidentally put forward in
earlier chapters) that his own mind that the mind of each
one of us already possesses absolute certainty about some
things, and that his intellect declares that things which are
clearly seen to be evident in and by themselves possess the
greatest certainty which it is possible for the human mind
to attain to, and that such certainty is abundant.
If one is so unfortunate as not to be able to see this
clearly, and not to be able to have a firm conviction that
there is such a thing as certainty, as also that many things
are actually and in fact certain, then he had better close
this volume and abstain from opening any other work on
science, contenting himself with simple matters, the toils
and pleasures of every-day life, without a thought beyond.
Having satisfied ourselves once for all that certainty
exists, and that the criterion of certainty is evidence,
whereof intrinsic self-evidence is the highest kind, our next
step should be an endeavour to ascertain what things are
most evident what things are supremely certain.
In our third chapter we contended that we have an intui-
tion of an external, independent world of extended things.
224 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
This is equivalent to the affirmation that extended things
are self-evident, and that we do actually affirm them so to
be. Nevertheless, as we have before pointed out, 1 the self-
evidence and certainty of the existence of such an external
world do not attain to the very highest degree of certainty
and evidence. They have not this pre-eminence, because
we have to obtain their certainty through the ministry of
the senses, by the aid of which, together with reflection, we
recognise the action of external bodies upon us, and the
sensations they excite within us, through which (without
our at first attending to and recognising our sensations) such
bodies are made present to our minds so that we perceive
them. The fact that we gain this perception by so com-
plex a process (though, through it, we cognise objects
directly and not reflexly, or by inference), 2 makes us able
to entertain a sort of fictitious doubt about the nature of
our perceptions of external things, but for which all idealism
would be absolutely impossible. We may (because many
persons do) believe that our inevitable perception of the
world about us is either an inference or a delusion, even to
the extent of regarding ourselves as the one only cause of
everything we perceive that is to say, we may accept
solipsism. As our own body is, for our mind, one portion,
though a very peculiar portion, of the external world,
doubts which may be entertained about that world must
apply also to it. Moreover, what we perceive with the
greatest certainty about the external world is just that which
our senses do not and cannot show us. That secondary
qualities should be, objectively, very different from what we
subjectively feel them to be we can easily admit ; but that,
underlying them, there should .not be an unperceived and
imperceptible substance in each body, constituting it essen-
tially a " thing in itself," belies that intuition of extension
1 See ante, p. 46. 2 See ante, p. 62.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 22$
by which we know bodies to be the self-evident entities they
are, and thus and therefore it is that idealism is in conflict
with sound sense.
So with respect to the existence of our own bodies : the
supreme certainty we have about it is not merely what is
present in the feeling of the moment, but the cognition we
have of it is gained (as we shall shortly see) through our
faculty of memory together with the exercise of reflection.
Thus all that is most evidently and supremely certain for
us is not, as so commonly supposed, anything we experience
in sensation, nor anything we cognise in examining or ex-
perimenting with material things, but, on the contrary,
exclusively that which is immaterial, abstract, and mental.
The truth of whatever is true, and the evidence of what-
ever is evident, can be most perfectly known to us only by
thought and not sensation. Not observation, not experi-
ment, not sensitivity, but thought and thought only (as we
pointed out earlier), 1 is and must be our supreme, ultimate,
and absolute criterion. Our last appeal in all cases is and
must ever be to a perception an intuition of the intellect.
Nevertheless, a mental world of abstract intuitions and
nothing else could never supply us with a knowledge of
science, still less with a perception of the groundwork of
all science. Abstract intuitions furnish us with fundamental
principles, which are not only priceless in themselves, but
are also indispensable elements in all reasoning. But be-
sides such processes of reasoning and such fundamental
principles, science requires a knowledge of absolute facts.
Without such facts all our reasonings must remain, as it
were, in the air, and could never descend to earth and be-
come of practical utility to us. There are, therefore, three
categories of truths, the perception of all of which is indis-
pensably necessary for science. These are : (i) certain general
1 See ante, p. 14.
15
226 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
principles ; (2) certain particular facts ; and (3) certain pro-
cesses of reasoning.
Without a knowledge of certain general principles we
could not argue; without a knowledge of certain facts all
our reasoning would merely concern abstract ideas ; and
without a reference to concrete reality, and without some
criterion of valid reasoning, we could never arrive at any
conclusion or discover and explicitly recognise implicit
truths, no inferences could be deduced, and no advance in
science could be consequently attained.
We will select from the category of particular facts one
which may serve as a solid foundation and starting-point
towards a pursuit of our object.
Let us suppose that certain definite observations and ex-
periments have been carried on such, e. g., as those which
were performed by the late M. Pasteur with a view to the
treatment of rabies. Now there is one supremely important
truth which is implied in our certainty as to the result of
any such experiment, whatever that result may be. Unless
we can be sure that it was we who both began the experi-
ment and also witnessed its conclusion that there had been
no change in our personality while experimenting such
conclusion could not be confidently relied on by us, as we
have before pointed out. 1 The most fundamental of all
facts for our purpose is the fact of our continous personal
existence.
Now, of course, no one is so mad as to deny that he
knows his existence at the moment he thinks about it. We
have already noticed the absolute certainty we have about
any feeling while we feel it; and as nothing can feel which
does not exist, the certainty about the existence of a feel-
ing makes no less certain the existence of him who feels it.
It is not this momentary knowledge of self-existence what
1 See ante, p. 101.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 22/
is known as the "empirical Ego "which is here in ques-
tion, but the existence of our being continuously, from hour
to hour, from day to day, from year to year, and from child-
hood till the present time.
Such a " continuous self," it has been again and again
affirmed by followers of Hume, cannot be known (i) with
supreme certainty, such as attends our certainty about our
possession of any present feeling we may have ; and (2) that
it cannot be certainly known because it cannot be known
absolutely and by itself, but always as some modification or
present state of consciousness.
But, in the first place, though we may be perfectly certain
about our possessing any present feeling, that certainty is
not in the feeling but in the conscious thought which recog-
nises the existence of the feeling. Secondly, not only is it
untrue that we cannot have supreme certainty about our
continuous existence, but the supremacy and certainty we
have of that is actually higher in degree than is our certainty
about our possessing any present state of feeling.
What we are conscious of when not directing our own
mind backwards upon its own experiences is a direct con-
sciousness of whatever we may be about what we may be
doing or feeling and whatever may be done to us what
we are doing or suffering. The focus of our consciousness
(the apex of the conscious wave) is not directed either upon
our own existence from moment to moment, or upon the
particular feeling or state of consciousness which we may
then have. We can, however, at almost any moment direct
it backwards and reflect upon either of these, and so attain
supreme certainty either about our continuous existence
from moment to moment, or upon the feeling or state of
consciousness then present with us.
Let the reader test this assertion by his own experience.
As, for example, let him examine what his mind is oc-
228 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
cupied about while sitting and attentively reading these
pages.
He will find his mind is not occupied about the feelings
occasioned by his sitting in the chair which supports him,
or the book he holds in his hand, any more than it is oc-
cupied about his own continuous existence, but about the
contents of this book. Yet he can at will make himself
explicitly aware of either his feelings or his perception of
his own self-existence. After thus turning his mind back
upon itself he will then be able to say, either " I have the
feelings which attend holding and reading a book on the
Groundwork of Science," or he may say to himself, " It is
I who have these feelings." But, as before said, this is not
a natural, primary act, but an act of reflection that is, a
secondary act. No one, when he begins to think, adverts
either to his " present feelings " or to his " continuous per-
sonal existence." No one begins by perceiving his act of
perception a bit more than he begins by expressly adverting
to the fact that it is he himself who perceives it.
Only by reflecting on the direct spontaneous perception
of the mind is it that we can explicitly see (by such a second-
ary act) that our perceptions and feelings are perceptions
and feelings, or that it is truly we who perceive and feel.
When a man playing cricket is having his innings, he has all
the " perceptions " and " states of consciousness " which
attend the assumption of the fit postures for the reception
and striking of the ball, and for gaining such runs as his ad-
dress may make possible. He knows very well all the time
what he is about during his play. But he never directs his
mind upon " his states of consciousness," or " the persist-
ence of his being." What he directly regards is what he is
doing and what is being done to him the defence of his
wicket from the attack of the bowler. If he were to divert
his attention therefrom to either his own " perceptions " or
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 229
his " persistent existence," the result would certainly not
contribute to the success of the eleven whereof he was a
member.
But we said that when men do so reflect, the certainty
thus gained of a persistent existence is even higher in degree
than that of any present feeling, perception, or state of con-
sciousness. And in fact, it is the " self " which is the more
prominently given. For the " feeling " or " perception "
is perceived as our present " feeling " or " perception," and
cannot be cognised altogether apart from the " self." But
our " self-existence " can be cognised without our advert-
ence to any feeling which may accompany such cognition or
to any " perception " as such.
In all our ordinary perceptions, wherein there is but a
" direct " and no " reflex " cognition of either " self " as
" existing " or of our " perception " as being such, it is the
self again which is, as it were, nearer the surface of the
mind. For we are sure, at least in our own case, that a
more laborious mental act is needed to bring explicitly be-
fore the mind the " feelings " implicitly contained in any
perception, than to bring explicitly before the mind the
self-existence implicitly contained in any such perception,
as also that the existence of the self, as self, is more readily
recognised than the existence of a perception as a percep-
tion.
Men repeatedly and very quickly advert to the fact that
actions or sufferings are their own. They are generally
prompt to claim any merit there may be in the former, or
to cry out against the unmerited character of the latter.
They do not, however, by any means so repeatedly and
quickly advert to the fact that the feelings and perceptions
they experience are " existing feelings and perceptions."
We think, therefore, it is impossible to deny that to
assert we can know our " states of consciousness" more
230 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
certainly, and directly than we can know the " continuously
existing self " which has them, is a most profound and
fundamental mistake.
We are at this moment writing : we feel the pen and the
motions of our hand and arm, and recognise that we have
such sensations, and that we perceive hand and arm, pen,
ink, and paper. But ordinarily, when writing, we no more
advert to such " perceptions " than we advert to our " per-
ceptions " when running up or down stairs. It is plain that
we do not so advert; for as surely as our attention is so
directed, our movements in writing become hampered in
the one case, and a stumble on the staircase ' is very likely to
occur in the second. Much less inconvenience ensues from
turning the mind inwards (while writing or running up or
down stairs), and recognising our existence, than from ad-
verting to our bodily movements while thus occupied.
Thus here, again, we may recognise the fact that of the two
certainties, the certainty of our own existence from moment
to moment is more easily attained than the certainty as to
what is the nature of the various feelings and perceptions
which may accompany the actions above referred to, or any
others.
But, as we have noted, it has been objected against the
possibility of our self-knowledge that we can never know
ourselves absolutely and unmodified, but only in some state
or under some relation. Now it is very true that we have
no intuition of our own psychical being in its essence, and
apart from any of its activities, passivities, and relations.
But then the same thing can be, and must be, said of every-
thing else we perceive. In fact, nothing we can in any way
perceive exists apart from everything else, or " absolutely "
as it is (in our opinion) very unreasonably termed.
Everything which exists, exists always in some state or
1 See ante, p. 117.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 23!
condition, and stands in some definite relation to other
things. Small wonder, then, if we do not know things in a
way in which they never do and probably never can exist.
We can know nothing by itself, for the very good reason
that nothing exists " by itself." It is quite true that we
have never known our own existing being except in some
state ; but then we have never known anything else except
in the same manner. jOur knowledge of ourselves is, in this
respect, like our knowledge of anyone else. Many persons
knew, as we did, the late Professor Huxley, but no one ever
knew, or could possibly imagine, him except in some state
either standing or not standing, speaking or silent, etc.
But that did not in the least prevent them from knowing
him well, and the fact of his continuous existence for a
greater or less number of years.
To many of our readers this exposition of the certainty
we have concerning our own continuous existence may seem
superfluous. But just as we have been convinced that it
was necessary to make as evident as it was in our power
to do, the truth that certainty exists and what is its crite-
rion, so we are convinced it is necessary to do our best to
show that the first and most fundamental of all facts is the
fact of our continuous being. If doubts as to either of
these truths cannot be entirely expelled from the mind of
any inquirer, that mind must remain subject to a sort of in-
tellectual falling-sickness, rendering all steady progress in
what concerns science really hopeless, and a pursuit of
Epistemology utterly futile. The fact of self-existence
from day to day is the most fundamental and important
of all facts about which our minds can give us any informa-
tion not on its own account so much as on account of the
consequences which follow its distinct recognition, as we
shall clearly see when we come to speak of memory.
But before leaving this subject, we must notice one further
232 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
objection against the possibility of our knowledge of our
own continuous and substantial being.
It has been said that the self of each instant, the self the
existence of which no one denies (the " empirical Ego "),
must, if we know our continuous substantial existence, be
identical with an underlying principle of unity, continuous
and enduring (the " pure Ego "). This, we are told, is im-
possible, because the Ego of each -instant is the feeling
" subject," while the underlying principle is an existence
is a thing thought about, and is an "object " of cognition.
But the " subjective " and " objective " are necessarily anti-
thetical, and therefore the " pure " and " empirical " Egos
must be separated from each other by the unfathomable
chasm which divides " subject " from " object."
Yet, as we have seen, the " pure Ego " can be perceived
in conjunction with its states, modifications, and relations,
and recognised as being the " Ego " which also recognises
that identity.
The fact is that our own being our Ego differs from
everything else whatever in that it can be, and is, both
" subject " and " object." It is, as we before noted, 1 in a
sense subject and object identified ; though more cognised as
especially the one or especially the other, according to the
direction taken by the mind at one or another moment.
We have but to turn our minds carefully inwards and ad-
vert to what our consciousness tells us in order to be able
clearly to see that the fact of our own substantial existence
is a truth which carries with it its own evidence, and is
absolutely certain in and by itself.
We say, "what consciousness tells us," but by that we do
not mean consciousness only of the present but also our
consciousness as to some of the past. For it is not a
momentary existence, but a substantial and continuous
1 See ante, p. 139.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 233
existence, the certainty of which we have been affirming is
both so fundamental and supreme.
Our knowledge of our continuous existence carries with it
the conviction of the validity of o\ir faculty of memory. 1 It
is, of course, obvious that by asserting the validity of this
faculty we do not and cannot mean that our memory is
always to be trusted. For everyone knows, and generally
regrets, that there are things he is certain he once knew but
which he can no longer recollect. As age advances, the
recollection of the facts of the recent past becomes gradually
less, and there are many instances of exceptionally defective
memory, sometimes of a whole subject-matter, sometimes
of particular parts thereof. But all these exceptional phe-
nomena do not affect the assertion of the general trustwor-
thiness of memory the assertion that what most people
remember clearly and distinctly, and which they are certain
really was as they remember it, did in fact occur as they
remember it. Putting aside exceptional persons, in patho-
logical conditions, it is certain that everyone can recollect a
portion of his past experience either what has just occurred
or what happened at a somewhat earlier, or very much
earlier, date.
It is also obvious that the trustworthiness of memory is
implied in our knowledge of our own existence, since we
could never know either what our most recently experienced
feelings or our direct perceptions of the empirical Ego have
been save by the aid of memory. Therefore the certainty
we have as to the one or the other of these carries with it a
certainty that our memory can inform us truly as to the
past.
As we have before pointed out, in order that memory
should exist, it is necessary that whatever is remembered
should be recognised by him who remembers it as having
1 See ante, p. 100.
234 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
occurred before, and without such recognition no recurrence
of a bygone mental image, however many times it should
occur, would be an act of memory.
But there are two forms of real memory. All our readers,
we are quite sure, have now and again tried to recall some-
thing they know they before knew and ought to recollect.
As memory is not truly a voluntary act, they can only turn
their minds in this or that direction, which they think may
possibly or probably lead them to it, till at last they have
thus succeeded, and have before their minds once more
the thought they wanted to regain. Such a mode of re-
appearance, due to a more or less prolonged effort of the
imagination directed in different directions by the will, is
distinguishable as recollection.
But very often an image of the past suddenly appears
in consciousness unsought unbidden and, it may be, its
reappearance is far from a welcome one. Such a spontane-
ous resurrection of past thoughts and images is distinguish-
able as reminiscence.
It is " recollection," the presence of which is implied in
our reflex knowledge of our own existence, because for that
we voluntarily turn the mind backwards on itself. We have
spoken of our knowledge of our existence " from moment
to moment," because we are not sure that it is possible ever
to know the present moment by a reflex act. It is true that
it is possible to look at a coloured object and say, " Now I
see red." In our own case, it seems to us that we can thus
be reflexly conscious of the present moment. Nevertheless,
we cannot be sure that in this we do not deceive ourselves.
For since we are a unity made up of material existence,
thought, and feeling; since the mind -cannot act in any way
without some concurrent action of the nervous system ; and
since no nervous action can take place without requiring a
certain time for its performance, it appears to us that the
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
reflex act which recognises " I am I," or " My feeling is
now being felt," must be one that occupies a portion of
time, however minute, and that therefore the existence, or
act, thus reflexly cognised, must be an existence or act of
the moment past. That our faculties, with our bodily
organisation, may fail to seize on this minute and moment-
ary state of succession, is no more wonderful than that an
iron bar, red-hot at one end, should, when very rapidly
twirled, give our eyes the impression of a circle of light.
But, however this matter may be, though mistakes of
various kinds are possible, we are none the less all of us cer-
tain as to some past events in our lives. It may be an event
of childhood ; it may be one when leaving school ; it may
be our marriage ; or it may be the last thing that those who
are now reading this did before they began to read it. As
to some portions of the past, memory gives us as much cer-
tainty as we can have with respect to some portions of the
present if we can have reflex knowledge of anything abso-
lutely present.
If we could not trust our faculty of memory, not only
would all history be impossible, but we could never order
our future conduct according to the lessons our experiences
of life ought, and are supposed, to give us.
But the veracity of the faculty of memory can never be
proved, and is, manifestly, a self-evident truth carrying with
it its own certainty. There can be no possible proof of it,
because we cannot argue at all unless we already trust it.
How could we ever reach the conclusion of a syllogism if we
could not trust our memory as to what the assertions of the
major and minor premisses were ?
Yet, marvellous to relate, an eminent physicist once de-
clared that we may trust our memory because we learn its
trustworthiness by experience ! Surely never was fallacy
more glaring! How could we ever gain experience at all
236 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
unless we trusted our memory in gaining it ? What the
physicist said, in effect, amounted to this: " You may trust
your present memory because experience has confirmed it,
while you can only know that it has confirmed it by trusting
your present memory! "
But memory, as will be quickly pointed out, performs a
yet more wonderful office than any we have yet described.
In the beginning of this work ' we pointed out the great
distinction which exists between the " objective " and the
" subjective."
Every " feeling," " thought," " desire," " volition," or
other " state of consciousness " present to the mind of
whoever is the subject of it, is spoken of as being " subjec-
tive." It is a thing which pertains to the subject to the
mind which feels or thinks. The whole of such experiences,
taken together, constitute the subjective world, or the sphere
of subjectivity.
On the contrary, everything whatever which exists exter-
nally to our present consciousness or feelings is spoken of as
being " objective"; and all that is thus external to the
mind constitutes the objective world, and is the region of
objectivity. It is the world of real objects the world which
occasions thought or feeling as opposed to the subjective
modifications so occasioned.
Everything which is subjective pertains to the self or
Ego during the time in which that "self" is feeling or
thinking.
Everything which is objective is external to the self which
is feeling or thinking, so that all states, even of the " self "
or " Ego," which are anterior to the time when that self or
Ego feels, are also objective objects of thought, indeed,
but not the thought or feeling of the thinking subject not
subjective.
1 See ante, pp. 8, 9.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
All thoughts and feelings are " objects " and objective
while they are being thought of or reflected upon, while the
acts of " thinking about " them or " reflecting on " them
are subjective.
It is generally recognised that there is no greater antithesis
than that which exists between the subject which thinks
and everything which may or can be an object of thought.
It is the great distinction between the " self " and the " not-
self." Every modern philosopher, beginning with Des-
cartes, has sought in vain to discover a bridge capable of
spanning that abyss. To avoid the difficulty the material-
ists have simply ignored the need of a bridge, and pretended
they were already on the other side, having effected the
transit by an act of blind credulity ; while the idealists, like
the philosophers of Laputa, have tried by elaborate calcula-
tions and manipulations of mere feelings to bring the other
side over to themselves.
Yet all the time nature has provided us with the simplest
and most practically useful of bridges in the mere existence
of that conscious memory which is involved in our perception
of our own substantial being.
That is the " yet more wonderful office" performed by
memory to which we recently made reference. It is the
bridge implanted in our own being between object and sub-
ject. It is memory which enables us to get intellectually
outside our present selves and our present feelings and sen-
sations, in a way no sane man can question.
For memory, inasmuch as it reveals to us part of our own
past, reveals to us what is " objective," and so actually in-
troduces us into the realm of objectivity, shows us more or
less of objective truth, and carries us (as we have before said)
into a real world beyond the range of our present feelings,
our sensations and sense-impresses.
The power which memory possesses of thus lifting us, as it
238 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
were, out of our present selves and showing us facts which
otherwise we could never know, is certainly a most wonder-
ful power; and, if we only have certainty as to one of our
past experiences, even if that took place but a few hours
ago, one such certainty would alone be sufficient to prove
indisputably that we can and do, through the faculty of
memory, learn real objective truth and can be certain about
much more than mere " impressions " and " sense-im-
presses," more than "appearances " and "present feelings,"
more than mere "phenomena" namely, about objective
reality.
Thus the fact that we can know with certainty our sub-
stantial, continued existence, and facts anterior to our
present feelings, is a truth fruitful indeed with far-reaching
consequences.
We have said that in the recognition, by a reflex act, of
our continued being, subject and object were, " in a sense,"
identified.
We used the expression " in a sense " for a very definite
and important reason, for though in that recognition subject
and object are to a certain extent conjoined and so " identi-
fied," yet what memory vouches for remains truly " object-
ive "; our past states and experiences are distinct objects
of cognition. Nevertheless, the consciousness which recog-
nises them and affirms, through them, our own identity (all
through the changes and experiences we have undergone),
is no less completely and truly " subjective" -it is the
conscious act of the subject which cognises and witnesses its
own being and past experience.
Therefore, in this act, subject and object, in one sense,
keep the distinctness of their two natures, while, in another
sense, they become identified in a single act of reflex con-
scious cognition.
In this circumstance we have indeed a vast and profound
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 239
distinction between human nature and anything of which
the psychical being of mere animals has as yet, to our
knowledge, shown itself capable. No one pretends that
brutes possess this marvellous intuition, while it is and must
be present, however unrecognised, in any savage who has
but one recollection of anything he has done or has had
done to him.
It is thus alone that we can unite the past with the
present and say" I am." These two 'words have an im-
mense significance for anyone who will carefully ponder over
them. They signify that he who utters them intelligently
recognises certain past acts as his own acts, and that a con-
tinuous unity (himself) has persisted, essentially the same,
for a longer or shorter time and has had more or less varied
experiences. He who utters them also thereby indicates
that he has the power of knowing at least one objective
existence which his senses cannot perceive.
Such must be the case, because our senses can only feel
what is present to them ; they can never feel the past. The
very fact of our feeling anything shows, with certainty, that
something is actually present which occasions that feeling.
But it is clear to everyone that his intellect can, by the help
of memory, know with certainty something which is far from
being present here and now, namely, some event of his past
life. Similarly, he is thus able to perceive his own continu-
ous existence, which is most certainly a thing which cannot
be felt. Our body can, of course, be felt as often as we like,
in several ways at the same time, and as long as we choose
to feel it. Nevertheless, each time we feel it we can but
experience the present feeling, and without memory and
without reflex acts of the intellect, we cannot know that our
own body has, and has had, a continuous enduring exist-
ence. It can never be felt as" enduring," although by the
aid of repeated sensations it can be intellectually perceived to
240 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
be enduring. But the intellect, aided by memory, can
know very well, by itself and directly, that it has an endur-
ing permanence, and that the thought of the day before
yesterday was its own thought. It can know this with a
degree of certainty which it is impossible to attain to as
regards any other fact. To doubt the continuous existence
of our body from day to day would be absurd indeed,
and a sure sign of lunacy; but to doubt the continuous
existence of the intellect, while illuminated by a clear
memory as to some of its past acts, known with certainty
to have been performed, would be infinitely still more
absurd.
This power of memory, however, is so wonderful, and the
consequences which follow the recognition of the work it
does are so profound, that it is in no way surprising its
value should have been underestimated. Yet, as we have
seen, its validity cannot be impugned without intellectual
suicide and falling into a fatuous system of universal scepti-
cism. The self-evident truth that our faculty of memory
is valid is one, the acceptance of which is absolutely neces-
sary for the pursuit of any inquiry, and for the full recogni-
tion of what is for us the most certain of all facts, namely,
the fact of our own existence.
We have now seen (i) that certainty does exist that
there is such a thing as certainty (2) that our own existence
is a most certain fact, and (3) is vouched for by our self-
evidently valid faculty of memory.
But facts alone, however certain and well-remembered,
cannot constitute science without the aid of some abstract
fundamental principles. We require a knowledge of some
principles which are self-evidently true ever and always.
Otherwise we could never arrive at certain truths with
respect to any matter of investigation or study. These
principles, also, must not merely be laws and conditions of
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 241
our own mind, but must be true of all objects open to our
ken. They must be true objectively as well as subjectively,
and must be laws of " things " no less than laws of
" thought." They must be seen to be necessarily true
everywhere and everywhen, quite independently of any or
of every mind. If such be the case, the same laws must
apply to the most common circumstances of every-day life
as well as to the highest matters of philosophy. They
must also be no mere blind mental processes, the result of
any faculty such as instinct, or be due to any kind of non-
rational impulse. Their influence must be seen in daily life,
in actions resulting from definite and certain intellectual
first principles and necessary and evident truths, to which
the competent philosopher can always trace them. This
does not mean they are evident as such principles and truths
to the mind of every man who uses them, but that their
truth is completely evident without reflection. In vain will
the village grocer try to persuade the farmer's wife that if
from sixteen ounces of tea two ounces be removed, the rest
is none the less equal to a pound. She will be quite sure
such is not the case, though she may be quite guiltless of
the knowledge of a single axiom. Similarly, if a labourer
has given the whole of his week's wages to his wife, he will
be quite sure no part of them is still in his pocket, though
he never heard a word about any first principles. The intel-
lectual light of such first principles illuminates the intellect
of every sane man, be he civilised or savage. Not, most
certainly, that savages and ignorant men can know such
principles as abstract truths. But those principles, none the
less, reveal themselves to the mind in the concrete facts of
every-day life as practical motives for judging and acting.
It is true we cannot explain how these truths became thus
practically apprehended in the objects and actions of our
constant experience, but we are and must be ignorant of
16
242 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
14 how " anything, which is for us ultimate, is, whatever it
may be. The " that " must ever be final. The " how "
can never be so, for the answer to every " how " must be
a " that."
The first and most important of these principles is the
perception of the reality of existence that what we per-
ceive to exist evidently does in truth so exist. This is often
expressed by the formula, " A is A," a formula which to
some persons appears utterly trivial, but which, neverthe-
less, lies at the basis of all our knowledge, and is a funda-
mental certainty without which no science could even begin
to be.
Another principle is that known as " the excluded
middle," which affirms that any given thing must either be
or not be, closely allied with which is that great regulative
principle to which we have already adverted, 1 and which is
called "the principle of contradiction'' the principle,
namely, that nothing can, at one and the same time, both
be and not be.
Now it has been strangely objected against this law of the
universe, that it is but a law of grammar, or, at most, of
logic. It has been said * to be but " a verbal convention,"
not possessing " objective validity."
But the objector might be (as, in fact, he was) asked
" whether, if he had lost an eye, he would still remain, after
that loss, in the same condition as he was in before ? "
If anyone does not see the objective impossibility of such
a thing in all places and at all times /'. e., if he does not
apprehend the application of the law of contradiction then
he either does not understand the question, or his mental
condition is pathological.
Men may pretend to doubt such principles, their own
1 See ante, p. 105.
* See Nature for Dec. 20, 1891, and Feb. u, 1892.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 243
existence, or the objectivity of mathematical truths. But
their practice demonstrates their unfailing confidence in
them on each occasion as it arises as when cheated by
false accounts, personally injured, or busied with some
serious investigation. That nothing can simultaneously be
existent and non-existent does not at all depend on the
words employed to denote that truth, but is "a law of
things." It would not lose its validity and objective truth,
not only if there were no such things as " words " at all,
but it would not lose them if the whole human race came to
an end. The necessity and universality of this principle is
easily recognised. Thus if we think of what the condition
of things must have been a long while ago in the days of
Julius Caesar, or when palaeolithic implements were first
fashioned we shall see that the law of contradiction is as
sure and certain with respect to the past as it is with the
present. We do not " think," we actually " know " with
absolute certainty that had Julius Caesar been drowned off
the coast of Britain he could not also have been assassinated
in the Roman Senate House, as also that at the time when
some early palaeolithic man was in the act of fashioning a
flint implement, he had not then both his hands empty.
The same certainty exists as to the most distant regions.
We are quite sure that the moon's surface cannot be both
mountainous and also absolutely smooth, and that the spec-
trum of a fixed star which shows certain definite lines, can-
not at the same time be devoid of them. Such assertions
might well seem too superfluous and trivial did not men
who have written letters to the journal named Nature, make
it only too evident that they are sorely needed.
This first principle, this law, then, is one of those which
are at once both absolute and universally necessary, while
they are incapable of proof and carry with them their own
evidence.
244 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
But it is possible that one or two of our readers may be
startled at those words which we have more than once used,
namely, " absolutely necessary " and " universal." They
may feel some vague doubt as to how this matter may be in
the Dog-star now, or how it may have been long ages before
our nebula was churned into worlds supposing the solar
system did so arise. We may be asked: " How is it pos-
sible for creatures such as men are, mere insects of a day,
inhabiting a floating atom in an obscure corner of the uni-
verse, to know that anything is, and must be, absolutely
true for all regions of space and the most distant abysses of
time ? "
Yet, in fact, we know much more even than this. How-
ever poor, feeble, and incomplete intellectually human
nature may be, it is nevertheless endowed with power to
see necessary limits to the action even of Omnipotence itself.
Let us suppose that our planet might have been the abode
of vegetable life only; its hills and dales and plains abound-
ing in forests in which the voice of no songster could be
heard or even the hum of insect life. Let us also suppose
that the world might have been devoid of dry land and
covered everywhere by an ocean, in the waters of which
animal life existed exclusively and abounded. However
possible we may suppose each of these conditions to have
been, it is manifest that no power, however omnipotent we
may believe it to be, could ever have made both of these
possible states of our globe simultaneously actual. Such
considerations as these may help to give confidence to any
of our readers who, from want of thought, may have been
disposed to doubt their powers of perception as to necessary
truths and truths of a lower order. It is necessary, indeed,
to be careful not to declare anything to be certain till it has
been seen to be clearly and indubitably true ; but it is no
less necessary that we should not shrink from declaring that
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 24$
to be true, the certainty of which is evident to our minds,
however wonderful it is, and however inexplicable may be
the fact of our knowledge of it. We are able to explain
how it is we know many things, but how we know primary
and fundamental truths which are self-evident and neces-
sarily incapable of proof must ever remain for us entirely
inexplicable. Were they explicable they could not be
ultimate.
The feeling of distrust which some persons experience
when they are told they can know with absolute certainty
certain truths to be both universal and necessary, seems to
be due to a habit of mind which has been brought about by
an unconsciously formed association between ideas. Things
which are very remote in space or which happened ages ago
are generally known to us as results of elaborate mental
processes, and some uncertainty about them is by no means
uncommon. On the other hand, we often feel very con-
fident about matters the circumstances and conditions of
which are within easy reach of our powers of observation.
Thus we have come to associate a feeling of uncertainty
with respect to statements concerning things which are
very remote in either time or space. It is not, then, sur-
prising that a feeling of vague distrust should arise when
beginners in philosophy hear it affirmed that the law of
contradiction applies equally to whatever concerns the
Dog-star and our portion of the universe, myriads of ages
before the solar system had its first origin.
It is, as we have before said, very wonderful that we
should have this knowledge of necessary truths, but, as
before 1 pointed out, it is most wonderful that we should
know anything.
Yet if we deny or doubt " the law of contradiction " we
fall, as before said, into the most unutterable absurdity
1 See ante, p. 56.
246 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
that of absolute scepticism, which shows, by a reductio ad
absurdum, that our denial, or doubt, was itself absurd, and
that we must admit that law's universal validity.
But, once more, it is no mere law of our own minds, no
affair of mere logic, since, if we are to accept as absolutely
true what our reason declares to be self-evident, it is a law
which applies to all things from physical phenomena to
mental states. Such we have seen to be the case with re-
spect to the various instances we have put forward as
examples. When we say that the number of balls in a
bag cannot at the same time be both " odd " and " even,"
we are certain that this is not a truth due to our organ-
isation, but to the real necessary objective conditions of
existence of the balls themselves. Our reason declares
that the law of contradiction is no " form of thought " im-
posed on our intellect, but is a certain and inevitable law of
objective existence independent of our intellect.
To doubt this would be to destroy all certainty, since it is
a fundamental truth on which all reasoning depends.
If we could not be sure that the fact that " all men are
mortal " did not necessarily imply that none could live
forever, we could never infer the mortality of anyone as
a consequence of his humanity. Thus for anyone to
attempt such a task as that of "proving" the law of
contradiction would be, in the highest degree, absurd,
since he would be compelled already to assume its cer-
tainty at the very outset of his demonstration at the
very first assertion he made.
Our perception, therefore, of the necessary validity of the
law of contradiction, teaches us both an absolute verity with
respect to objective existences with respect to the matter
of all science as well as the existence of our own mental
perception thereof.
Another principle of universal application and self-evident
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE
validity is the well-known axiom : " Things which are equal
to the same thing are equal to each other."
As with the law of contradiction, so with this axiom it
is practically known and constantly acted on in every-day
life without advertence to its axiomatic character, and even
without any knowledge of it as a recognised truth at all.
The familiar application of a yard measure to different ob-
jects is an amply sufficient demonstration that such is the
case. But the principle applies not only to the equality of
material things but to every kind of equality equality
of motion, illumination, and feeling and it is evidently a
principle of objective validity, and is a law of things no less
than of thought.
This axiom about equality, though it can be illustrated
by any number of instances, can never be proved by reason-
ing. It is a self-evident truth which reposes on its own evi-
dence as do the other axioms of mathematics. The same
may be said of the fundamental laws of mathematics and
geometry.
Yet a very curious argument against the objective validity
of our perceptions in such matters has been put forward by
persons no less distinguished than the late Professors Clif-
ford and Helmholtz. Their object in advancing it was to
show by an example how truths which appear necessary to
us are not objectively necessary. But the result of their
efforts was the direct contrary of what they intended.
Their intention evidently was to support the proposition,
" We can know no truths to be absolutely necessary," but
the result was to show that even according to them some
truths are (and were, even in their own eyes) absolutely ne-
cessary. The necessary truths they proposed to controvert
were : (i) " A straight line is the shortest one which can be
drawn between two points," and (2) " Two straight lines
cannot enclose a space."
248 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
To prove their contention they imagined the existence of
curious living creatures possessed of length and breadth but
devoid of thickness, living on a sphere with the surface of
which their bodies coincided. They were supposed to have
experience of length and breadth in curves, but none of
height or depth, or of any straight lines. To such creatures,
it was said, our geometrical truths would not appear to be
" truths " at all. A straight line for them would not be the
shortest line between two points, while two parallel lines
prolonged would enclose a space.
But beings so extraordinarily defective might well be sup-
posed incapable of perceiving geometrical truths evident
enough to others less imperfect such as ourselves. Never-
theless, if they could at all conceive of the things we denote
by the terms " straight lines " and " parallel lines," then-
there is nothing to show that they could not also perceive
those same necessary truths concerning them which are
evident to us.
It is strange that the very men who brought forward this
fanciful objection actually showed, by the way they made
it, that they themselves perceive the necessary truths of
those very geometrical relations the necessity for which they
verbally denied. For how, otherwise, could they affirm
what would or would not be the necessary results attending
such imaginary conditions ? How could they confidently
declare what perceptions such conditions would certainly
produce, unless they were themselves convinced of the
validity of the laws regulating the experiences of such
beings ? Anyone who should affirm (as they did) that they
can perceive what would necessarily be the truth with re-
gard to the perceptions of such beings, would thereby im-
plicitly assert the existence of some necessary truths, or else
their own argument itself must fail as utterly futile.
There is one more general principle which, for the end we
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 249
have in view, we must endeavour to depict as fully as we
can, namely, the principle of causation. It is, however, so
important in our eyes that we will reserve its treatment for
the following chapter, and terminate the present one by pre-
senting to our readers the remarks we have yet to make
with respect to the process of reasoning.
The process of deduction, its validity, and the force of the
word " therefore," have been already referred to in our
fourth chapter, 1 but here they must be considered more
fully.
Of the many truths to a perception of which the human
mind has attained, a large proportion have been reached by
reasoning, and the reasoning process is, as we all know, one
so important even to the progress of science, that any at-
tempt to dispense with its use would be an endeavour fit
only for a lunatic. For an exploration of the groundwork
of science, a clear perception of the validity of the process
of reasoning is an indispensable antecedent. Of course, it
is in the first place necessary that all reasoning should be
strictly logical. Logic has two ends in view : one is to teach
us how to avoid certain errors, the commission of which
would vitiate all our reasoning; the other is the manifesta-
tion of truths which are involved in, and depend upon, the
recognition of other antecedent truths, from the truth of
which they necessarily follow as consequences. It is with
the latter end of logic we are here concerned, and we have
to make manifest the fact that the conclusion of any prop-
erly constructed syllogism, the premisses of which are true,
is a proposition which, as a consequence, is necessarily and
self-evidently true.
If it is really a fact that all female whales have mammary
glands, or organs for suckling their young, then if a particu-
lar animal just caught turns out to be a female whale, we
1 See ante, p. 103.
250 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
may, in that case, most confidently expect to find it pro-
vided with such organs.
But many objections have been made to such syllogistic
reasoning on the ground that the conclusion is already con-
tained in the premisses. If " all men are mortal," such
objectors say, then those who know that, know that any
special man, such as Socrates, is mortal also, and, therefore,
the assertion that he is mortal can be nothing more than a
repetition of part of the major premiss. Here then, they
say, we have no true " inference " at all, but merely a re-
statement. We do not " conclude " that Socrates is mor-
tal, but only say over again, with the use of his name, what
was said before without the use of his name.
Now, of course, the mortality of Socrates, and the mam-
mary glands of the freshly caught female whale, were im-
plicitly included in what was previously known about " all
men " and " all female whales." Unless they were thus
" implicit," they could never be seen to follow as explicit
consequences in the conclusions of the respective syllogisms.
But the syllogism really does afford fresh knowledge to the
mind, and often very important knowledge, by making
truths explicit and manifest, so that they can be most clearly
recognised, which before were merely implicit, and so were
not necessarily obvious.
There is, indeed, a very great difference between implicit
and explicit knowledge. To cause a knowledge which we
only possess " implicitly " to become " explicitly " present
to our minds, may often be, in effect, to give us fresh
knowledge altogether practically to give us a knowledge
of something whereof we had before no available or conscious
knowledge at all.
Let us suppose that a youth has learned by heart the
characters which respectively distinguish the four classes of
backboned animals beasts, birds, reptiles, and fishes but
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 2$l
that he has seen and knows very little about specimens of
different kinds. It would be by no means wonderful if such
a youth should consider a porpoise to be a kind of fish.
But his teacher might remind hirn that all creatures possess-
ing certain characters of brain and heart were beasts. He
might thus come to see that the porpoise, which he took to
be a fish, must, since it has those characters, really be a
beast.
Referring again to the character of this class of beasts, he
might further exclaim, " This fish-like thing, when alive,
must, as being really a beast, have had warm blood." His
conclusion would have been a perfectly correct one, and in
this way his inferences would really have supplied him with
knowledge which he certainly did not possess before.
So great, indeed, is the difference between explicit and
implicit knowledge, that the latter may not deserve to be
called " knowledge " at all. Probably there is no opponent
or derider of the syllogism who will venture to affirm that a
student who has learned, and recollects, the axioms and
definitions of Euclid, can, by that fact alone, have obtained
such a real knowledge of all the geometrical truths the work
contains, that he will fully understand all its propositions
and theorems without having to study them. Yet all the
propositions, etc., of Euclid are implicitly contained in the
definitions and axioms. Nevertheless, in spite of that,
the student will have to study much and go through many
processes of inference, by which he may be enabled to
recognise these implicit truths explicitly, before he can truly
be said to have any real knowledge of them.
Of course, in the very rare instances in which the major
premiss expresses a truth which has been arrived at by an
examination of every instance referred to in it a " com-
plete induction " there is nothing implicit.
Thus, if we knew with absolute certainty that every man,
252 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
woman, and child in some Indian village was a leper, then
to say that a man came from that village would be equi-
valent to saying explicitly that he was a leper. In such a
case there would be no evolution of implicit into explicit
truth there would be no process of inference, and the word
44 therefore " would, if used, be quite out of place.
Such cases are, however, most rare. No one can pretend
to know by a complete induction that all the radii of a circle
are equal. It is absolutely impossible to examine all exist-
ing circles; besides, the assertion that all the radii of a circle
are equal applies not only to all existing, but also to all
possible, circles.
Similarly, if we are shown a triangular figure and are
asked, "Are its angles equal to two right angles ? " we may
not be able at once to answer the question by directly in-
specting the figure. If, however, we already know that
the angles of every triangle are together equal to two right
angles, then we should be able at once to infer the truth,
and to say that in so far as the figure approximated to an
ideally perfect triangle, would its three angles approximate
to two absolutely perfect right angles. We should arrive at
this truth mediately, and reach the conclusion by the com-
bined help of a major and minor premiss.
A very great part of the knowledge we acquire through-
out our whole lives is acquired, in this indirect way, by the
help of that mental process which is expressed by the word
" therefore."
But we have no special reason to be proud of that word,
since it implies that we are compelled to get at truth by a
very roundabout process. Were our intellect of a much
higher order, 1 it is conceivable that we might be able to
see equally well, and at one and the same time, all those
truths which a proposition may contain implicitly as well as
1 See ante, p. 102.
INTELLECTUAL ANTECEDENTS OF SCIENCE 253
explicitly. In that case, of course, we should be saved the
trouble of any process of inference. The truths we now
have to gather indirectly, would then be directly evidentjo
us, just as our own actual mental activity is evident to us.
Only having, however, the imperfect nature we possess, we
must .be content with the more laborious, though practically
sufficient, process of inference or ratiocination. We must
be content to gain actual knowledge from implicit truth by
placing propositions side by side, and so evolving explicit
truth as a consequence of that process properly performed.
Reasoning, then, is an indirect process of attaining truths,
and one which, when properly carried out, is necessarily and
self-evidently true. It is not, however, the highest kind of
act our intellect is capable of. Its highest possible act is
the direct apprehension, or intellectual intuition, of a uni-
versal and necessary truth or of a concrete fact as absolutely
certain and self-evident.
Just, however, as certainty, self-perception, the principle
of contradiction, and axiomatic truths, may be perceived
directly with reflex advertence to each, so also correct
reasoning can be carried on, and the force of the term
" therefore " (as the expression of a truth which is a con-
sequent from truths antecedently known) appreciated, with-
out any reflex consciousness of ratiocination as a process,
and a process performed by us.
It is, of all things, important to note and keep in mind
the truth, that " thought " as we know and experience it,
is our only means of arriving at knowledge, and gives the
highest certainty thereto. It is evidently necessary to state
this very distinctly, since there are men who profess to be
philosophers and yet ignore or deny this truth. To sup-
pose that by any kind of reasoning we can come to under-
stand what we can never think, may seem an utterly
incredible folly ; yet at a meeting of a metaphysical society
254 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
in London, a speaker, a few years ago, expressly declared
" thought " to be a misleading term, the use of which
should be avoided.
" Thoughts " may be, and should be, carefully examined
and criticised ; but however much we may do so, and what-
ever the results we may arrive at, such results can, mani-
festly, only be reached by thoughts and must be expressed
by the aid of our thoughts.
We are far indeed from denying that unconscious activities
of various orders take place in our being; yet, whatever in-
fluence such activities may have, they cannot affect our
judgments save by and in thoughts. Even if a man should
become convinced that his thoughts were worthless tools,
he could only arrive at that conclusion by making use of the
very tools he declared to be worthless. What, then, ought
his conclusion to be worth even in his own eyes ?
We can never justify reason, because we must employ
reason in criticising and seeking to justify it, and so work in
a circle. Not to trust our reason before we have justified
it, is to be, as Hegel said, like the prudent GxoTtaGTiHoz
who would not enter the water till he had first learned to
swim.
It is simply impossible by reason to get behind conscious
thought, and our thoughts are, and must be, our only means
of investigating problems however fundamental.
Yet some persons appear to believe that our convictions
even as to self-evident truths may be invalidated on ac-
count of the causes which have, or may have, been at work
in eliciting them. This question forces us to consider the
principle of causation, its nature and effects, in this relation
amongst others. To that consideration, then, the next
chapter will be devoted.
CHAPTER IX
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE
IN the introductory chapter to the present work we ob-
served how constant was the desire of ordinary men to
know the " how " and " why " of things to know the
causes and circumstances of events. To know this is, as
before said, above all, the aim and object of science, and to
the successful man of science the old adage eminently ap-
plies: " Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas." But not
only the devotee of science, but every man on every day of
his life, experiences what he regards as the effects of causes,
and deems that he produces effects himself. Whatever
may have brought it about, it is plain that notions of causes
as really acting, and of effects which are produced by them,
have somehow become embedded in the mind of man and
are ready to start up and manifest themselves at any mo-
ment. Indeed, so strong is the notion of the necessity of
causation, to account for all we see about us, often felt to be,
that it has given rise to the assertion, so often made, that
" everything must have a cause."
Yet such a dictum is quite untenable, and would lead us
to a regressus ad infinitum, since, should our reasonings and
our intuitions convince us there must be a first cause, we
should have then to postulate another cause for that first
cause's existence, and so on without end.
But if we examine our own minds as to the nature of our
255
256 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
conception of cause, and especially what seems to call it
forth, we shall find that it stands in close relation to our
perception and idea of " change."
When some change occurs, or when anything strikes us
as being a new thing, we spontaneously look out to see
what has brought it about what is its cause. And very
often our investigation is quite satisfactorily repaid. We
find what the cause was, and that we can by experiment
again produce the effect whenever we will.
Think over the matter as we may, when we perceive a
change, or that a new existence has come into being, we
are at once certain that some cause must have produced it.
If we have gone out of doors, leaving our library window
open, and on our return find it shut, we are at once abso-
lutely certain that some person or thing must have shut it.
If an infant begins to cry violently without any external
cause, we are sure that it has experienced some painful
feeling, produced through some internal modification. If
we find in a bird-cage which has long been shut up and
tenantless, a living thrush, the notes of which have attracted
our attention, we are at once as certain as it is possible to
be that, if it did not find its way in itself, someone must
have placed there this, for us, new existence.
This mental conviction of ours is no negative one, such,
e. g., as that " we cannot conceive such changes or new
existences without a cause," but that we positively do see
" that every change or new existence is, and must be, due to
some cause. ' '
This proposition, indeed, expresses an intellectual intui-
tion which is for us a necessary and universal truth, and one
self-evident. As such, of course, it is quite incapable of
proof ; but a little pondering over it will, we think, make its
self-evidence quite clear, and show that it is no blind habit
of mind " due to custom," as Hume said (as if the origin
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE
of any idea could be explained by such a notion !), but is one
seen to be necessarily true.
Thus, in the first place, a new thing could never have
caused itself, because it could never have acted before it
came into existence. It must, therefore, have been brought
into being by something else.
Secondly, every change in anything which already exists
is, in fact, a new mode of being; and therefore equally de-
mands a cause for its existence. It must, then, be due
either to something distinct from it, or to some antecedent
mode of being of that which now exists in its new mode.
Thus, when we awake from sleep, our awakening must be
due either to something external which has awakened us, or
to some change which has taken place in our own organism.
In the latter case, that change or new mode in our being,
which we call " wakening from sleep," had for its cause an
antecedent state of our body increased vigour of the cir-
culation or what-not.
Moreover, all the various objects we see or feel must, each
of them, we know, be a result of the action of some cause or
causes external to it. This is, of course, most manifestly evi-
dent with respect to every artistic product, and everything
which has been made by man. But a little reflection will
show that the same is the case with all the products of nat-
ure. No stone we tread upon, no patch of sand or mud, can
have come to be what it is, save by the action of antecedent
causes. The shape of every mountain is, at least, largely
due to the action of water, and so on. And this law of
causation applies to the most minute and simplest, as well
as to the largest and most complex, of bodies. Even pieces
of matter, which, so far as we yet know, consist of but one
chemical element such as a fragment of gold or carbon
owe the shape, place, and the relations in which we find
them, to conditioning causes. And carbon in its brilliant
258 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
condition as a diamond (a state we term crystalline) is
equally an effect of causes ; and, as yet, all the causes which
have produced all the diverse and most definite forms of
crystallisation, which are characteristic of different minerals,
are for us mysterious.
Any and every such object demands a cause for its actually
being in the place it is, at the time it is there, for its size,
its shape, etc., and for all its relations to surrounding things,
as well as for any special qualities of its own internal con-
ditions. These special conditions would demand a cause,
even if such a body existed alone and by itself in an other-
wise empty universe if we may permit ourselves to frame
for a moment so absurd an hypothesis.
Therefore, everything which can be seen not to contain a
sufficient cause for its own existence within itself, must be
due to some cause or causes external to it. Nothing which
is composite, capable of division, or which gives evidence of
having had a beginning, can be so seen to contain within
itself a sufficient cause for its being.
Moreover, this perception of the necessity of causation is
not, as before said, the mere result of a mental impotence of
the imagination it is not a negative inability to imagine a
complex thing uncaused but a positive and active power
of perception. Let the reader first consider his own idea of
a stone of some definite shape and size, made of two or
more mineral substances. Then let him ask himself whether
he does not actively and positively see that its shape and
composition must positively be due to influences of different
kinds, or whether he finds himself merely passive and un-
able to help himself to an actively intelligent conviction on
the subject.
The idea of a " cause " is closely connected with the con-
ception of " power " or " force " ideas gained through our
own personal experience. When we make strenuous efforts,
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 259
or are overborne by the active energy of somebody or some-
thing else, we have this experience. We know, also, our
own power to think and act, and the influence exercised by
our own will. But there is another yet more noteworthy
instance of the exercise of power which may come within
our experience. When under strong temptation to indulge
in some very keen and entrancing pleasure, we can easily
perceive, if we will, the strong hold the desire for self-
indulgence has over us and its power and force in attracting
our will in one direction. Similarly, when the thought of
most repulsive consequences which will probably, or cer-
tainly, follow such indulgence occurs to us, we may feel the
power exercised by that thought in repelling us from it and
in some contrary direction.
The idea of " power " or " force " is a primary ultimate
idea which cannot be resolved into other more fundamental
or elementary conceptions. If the reader doubts this, we
would recommend him to try so to resolve it himself.
But the reality of our conception of cause of our percep-
tion of the universal and necessary truth of the law of causa-
tion has been denied on the following grounds. It is
objected that though we have, of course, seen one condition,
relation, or event follow another condition, relation, or event,
we have never once perceived any inflow or passage of in-
fluence from one thing to another; and yet the law of causa-
tion implies the existence of such a thing. We have never,
it is further stated, really seen or felt any " causation," but
only sequences of one kind or another. Therefore, it is con-
cluded, there is probably nothing but sequence, and our
idea of the passage of influence in causation is a mere mis-
take, derived from foolishly transferring in imagination to
external things that " feeling of effort " which we experience
in our actions, such mistake being then perpetuated by
custom.
260 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
This objection is very easily answered. It is, of course,
quite true that we never see the act of physical causation
over and above the things which act and react, because it is
invisible as well as intangible. But though our senses can-
not perceive it, our intellect can and does. When we knock
a nail into a board with a hammer, it is simply nonsense to
tell us that because we can only perceive the nail, the board,
and the hammer, we cannot know that we exert a force
which makes the nail go in.
But there is one instance in which a man can be aware,
through his actual feelings, not only of an antecedent and
consequent, and the relation of causality between them,
but also the very bond or nexus between them may be not
only distinctly perceived by our intellect, but its inflow actu-
ally felt. This is whenever a man is in doubt about what
course to pursue owing to his being drawn in different direc-
tions by different motives. Then the inflow and force of
the conflicting motives acting upon his own mind can be
distinctly perceived by him. This instance is substantially
the same as that we before adduced with respect to our per-
ception of the emission of " force." We can all also
perceive force when anything resists our will. Thus, let us
suppose that the stem of a small tree has been partly sawn
through, and that we then try whether we can pull it down.
If the coherence of the part not sawn through is still very
great, we may have to exert all our force to overcome it.
When at last we have succeeded, and are exhausted with
our efforts, we may feel very vividly that anyone who denied
we had caused the tree to come down must be as great a
lunatic as anyone who denied the real objective existence of
the tree itself.
But it may be said (we know it may, because such follies
have actually been printed) that, though we may be con-
scious of our own force, we err if we assert efficient causation
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 26 1
in any other instance. In fact, Mr. Herbert Spencer has
said that by such an assertion we make the great mistake of
attributing to inanimate things feelings like those we ex-
perience in making such physical efforts. Surely greater
nonsense has rarely been written. Let us suppose the
partly-sawn-through tree to be not even touched by us, but
that a gale has sprung up which, after having swayed it to
and fro, breaks it off, and prostrates it, just as we have sup-
posed it prostrated by human efforts. Are we not then to
say that the wind has exerted as much force as was ours ?
Can we not say this confidently, without being such idiots
as to attribute " feelings " to the wind ?
Truly, then, we have in our observations and experiments
with external things, as well as in the consciousness of our
own efforts and the action of motives on our minds, actual
experience of causation, while, as we have seen, . a very
moderate study of the matter suffices to show us that the
law of causation is a necessary and universal truth which
carries with it its own evidence.
A clear perception of the law of causation gives efficient
support to a great principle, without which all science
would be absolutely impossible. This is the law of the
Uniformity of Nature* It is true that the ordinary ex-
perience of mankind makes men perfectly contented that
things will take their normal course, e. g., that the sun will
daily rise and set, and that any tool dropped from the
hand will at once fall towards the ground unless otherwise
upheld. In circumstances which seem to recur under, so
far as we can see, the same conditions as those wherein
they occurred before, we naturally expect the same results
to ensue as we before met with ; and such expectations
are fulfilled.
Nevertheless, mere common sense and human testi-
1 See ante, p. 106.
262 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
mony cannot suffice, any more than the experience of any
individual can suffice, to show that the uniformity of nature
is, and must always be, positively certain and absolute.
Our mere observation of natural laws can never suffice to
enable us to affirm that never and nowhere is there a law-
less condition of things, or that such a lawless condition
may not one day come within our own sphere of experience
utter irregularity of co-existences and sequences. But here
that necessary and self-evident principle, the law of causa-
tion, comes in, and supplies us with the basis for science
which is so imperatively required. For, since there can be
no change without a cause, it follows there can be no differ-
ence between the results of two perfectly similar sets of
antecedent conditions, and that the more completely two
sets of conditions are alike, the more completely similar will
be the results produced by them.
Thus the uniformity of nature is a necessary result of the
law of causation, which necessary and self-evident truth
gives the efficient and necessary support to that expectation
which good sense and human testimony combine to produce
in us.
But there must also be a certain proportion between any
physical or mental cause and its effects; and our reason
assures us that we can to a considerable extent judge as to
causes by the effects they have produced. We can often
form a rational judgment as to the adequacy of some cause
to produce a given effect. No child with a toy hammer
could level the Great Pyramid of Egypt, and no ignorant
peasant could translate and adequately comment upon
Plato's Symposium. No creature devoid of intellect could
ever perform a truly virtuous action, for it could have no
perception about ethical relations. That a cause must
be adequate in order that a given effect may be produced,
is an absolute, universal, and necessary truth, no less than
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 263
is the law of causation itself, as is commonly if tacitly
assumed. 1
But, as we before observed, an objection is often raised to
this assertion on the ground that there is no resemblance
between the steel blade of a dagger and the wound it can in-
flict or between a red-hot coal and the burn it may occasion.
How, we are asked, could we know, a priori, the " ade-
quacy " of cither to produce the " injuries " they respect-
ively cause ?
But, in the first place, there is a certain resemblance
between the width of the cut and that of the dagger's
blade, and between the size of the coal and the extent of
the burnt surface. In addition to that, it is plain, after a
moment's thought, that the "adequacy" of the cause to pro-
duce the effect is neither in the steel nor in the coal, but in
these as affecting a sensitive organism which they may in-
jure. The organism and the agents are together adequate
to produce the effects cited, and that adequacy is evident
to our reason, and sufficient.
But the one appeal of physical science is to "experience"
to observation and experiment, and the verification of
hypotheses thereby. And what does experience teach us ?
In many instances, of course, our ignorance of the intimate
nature of, or the powers and properties of, bodies, makes us
quite unable to anticipate, a priori, what effects may be pro-
duced ; these we can only learn by experience. But in
multitudes of every-day observations, the inadequacy of
some things to produce certain effects (as with the
child's hammer and the pyramid) is manifest, as is the
impotence of an ignorant man to teach Greek, or of an
impecunious one to lend a sum of money; so that ex-
perience fully bears out the ancient dictum: " Nemo dat
quod non habet. ' '
1 See ante, p. 66.
264 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
We have now passed in review in the preceding and
present chapters the questions as to : (i) the existence of
certainty, and that what is, exists; (2) what must be our
ultimate criterion ; (3) our perception of our own substantial
existence ; (4) the validity of our faculty of memory ; (5) the
principle of contradiction ; (6) mathematical axioms; (7) the
validity of the reasoning process ; and (8) the law of causa-
tion. We hope the views here advocated concerning these
questions may have commended themselves to the judgment
of our readers. If so, we have already succeeded in the
greater part of our task. For there can be no question that
if the fundamental principles we have put forward are neces-
sary and universal truths, which carry with them their own
evidence and constitute the ultimate criteria of human
knowledge, they must also constitute a large part of the
groundwork of all science.
These truths we can recognise for what they are, namely,
absolutely certain and self-evident facts and principles. But
however evident they may be, it is no less evident that we
did not always recognise them. Not only in our infancy,
but during childhood and early youth we were either alto-
gether ignorant of them or, at any rate, did not take them
for what we now see them to be.
How, then, did we come to obtain a knowledge of them,
and is it possible that the mode in which we acquired
them, whatever it may have been, can give us reasonable
cause to mistrust them, or be half-hearted, as it were, in our
recognition of them as absolutely true facts and principles ?
Can we gain any light as to what may have been the causes
of our certitude, and have such causes any real bearing on
that certitude's validity ?
We have already disposed of that most unreasonable of
all suppositions, namely, the supposition that what we have
represented as first principles can possibly be based on
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 26$
reasoning. We have seen ' that such a system results in a
regressus ad infinitum, and would necessarily emasculate
reasoning by depriving it of its indispensable premisses.
But some persons would represent our deepest convictions
as nothing but the result of habit and associations of images
and ideas, which have become so inveterate that it is quite
impossible for us now to detach ourselves from them.
This conception we have, it is hoped, incidentally shown
to be quite insufficient. For how, in the first place, could
habit give rise to ethical perceptions in beings who were
entirely devoid of them ? How could habit formed amongst
the experiences of life have enabled us to perceive that true
and absolutely certain conclusions could never be obtained
through premisses which were false or uncertain ? a It is
quite true, of course, that reason is developed and main-
tained by complex associations of sensations, images, and
ideas, as it is, in another way, maintained by the food we
eat and the air we breathe. But none of these things, in
whatever combinations, could give rise to intellectual intui-
tions in creatures devoid of intellect.
Other persons, again, who vehemently repudiate the last-
noticed hypothesis, would have us regard as supremely cer-
tain, the truths which are at first recognized by the dawning
intelligence of the child. Only such ideas do they consider
to be what they call ' ' a genuine testimony of consciousness.
But why should truths recognised by a dawning human in-
telligence be worth more than those recognised by a man's
intelligence at its full noontide ? It is against all our ex-
perience to assert that the ideas of young children are more
true and profound than those of full-grown and well-
educated men. This theory would be utterly absurd but
for a conception latent in it and unexpressed, which we
think must be its real, though unavowed, foundation. It is
1 See ante, p. 103. 2 See ante, p. 218.
266 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
the notion that the infant mind bears, as it were, the fresh
impress of a Divine Creator, on which account its dicta
should be more regarded than persuasions of later days,
when that mind has become subjected to the corruptions
and delusions prevalent in the world. This fancy, it seems
to us, must also be the ground upon which other men have
declared that what we should most trust, and may entirely
trust, are ideas which are a priori^ and have never been
gained by experience. For why otherwise could anyone
think we should attach less importance and validity to im-
pressions and conclusions which have been gained by the
most patient and painstaking efforts, when large stores of
knowledge have been acquired in many different ways, than
to others (did any really exist), for the possession of which
antecedent experiences were in no way necessary ?
Obviously, the only ground upon which the latter could
make any special claim on our acceptance would be that
they had been implanted in human nature by " an All-wise
Creator. ' '
Yet it is no less obvious that such a conviction could
never serve as a basis for our knowledge, because it would
first be requisite to prove that " an All-wise Creator " exists.
That His existence is not known by any intuition is mani-
fest from the fact that so many books have been written to
prove that existence, as well as from the circumstance that
so many persons doubt or positively disbelieve it.
But to prove any such theistic doctrine it is manifestly
necessary antecedently to possess a sufficient knowledge
of truths apt to serve as premisses for so important a
conclusion.
Now there is one assertion as to the cause of our convic-
tions especially about our confidence in the real existence
of the external world and the inevitableness of that confid-
ence which deserves special notice, not so much on its
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 267
own account as because it harmonises with a fashion of the
day. A strong tendency exists to try to account for ev-
erything by the action of " natural selection," and that
cause has been specially invoked to account for the inevit-
able character of our convictions about the reality of the
external world.
It is indeed a persuasion of many men of science that all
the characteristics, all the sense-organs, and all the intel-
ligence which any animal possesses, are and must have been
due to " natural selection," that is, to the preservation in
the struggle for life of the creatures possessing such sense-
organs and intelligence. Why then, it is asked, may not
human reason be in the same case ? Why may it not be
the mere result of a fortunate psychical variation which has
enabled the primitive brutal man to destroy and feed on the
brutal animal a trifle more easily than before ? Is it possible
for us to trust and confide in a faculty which has been at-
tained slowly through the persistent endeavours of our semi-
simian forefathers to feed and breed? A faculty so developed
may be admirable as a weapon, but what guarantee have we
to regard it as suited for very different purposes, namely, to
reveal to us the true nature of the world in which we find
ourselves, and to show us what it is reasonable for us to do
in other directions ?
This objection we have long before referred to, 1 stating
that it would be more fully considered later on. For such
fuller consideration the time has now come.
But we may here remind our readers of what we before
pointed out. 2 If our conviction about the existence of an
external world had been produced by " natural selection,"
that would constitute a triumphant argument against ideal-
ism. "For, unless an independent, extended, and external
world really existed, no sentient organisms would be de-
1 See chapter Hi., p. 46. 8 See ante, p. 47.
268 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
stroyed by contravening the laws and conditions thereof.
If it had acted so efficiently, it must have been a reality.
But, though there has been, and still is, a great deal of
talking and writing about " natural selection," it is sur-
prising how many persons talk and write about it without
knowing what it really is. It may be useful, therefore, to
say here a few words upon the subject, so that our readers
may run less risk of being misled and wasting their time
over questions which are in no way to the purpose.
In the first place, we must remember what the action of
" natural selection " is, what it can do, and what it is im-
possible that it should ever effect.
" Natural selection," as everyone knows, was put forward
by the late Mr. Charles Darwin to account for the origin of
new kinds (new species) of animals and plants. Considering
that no two individuals of either kingdom are absolutely
alike, and that every species tends to increase rapidly, it is
evident that any variation (whether structural or functional)
which should arise, of a seriously detrimental character,
would render almost inevitable the destruction of the in-
dividual possessing it.
It is no less evident that any animal or plant which should
come to possess a new character exceptionally favourable,
would have a better chance of survival amidst the various
adverse influences which threaten the lives of all animals
and plants.
Thus individuals which survive by escaping the elimina-
tion which awaits others, are said to be naturally " selected. "
It is not, however, any active " selection " which takes
place ; it is merely an escape from destruction through the
possession of some favourable characteristic.
' Natural selection," therefore, is in reality a term de-
noting all the destructive powers of nature taken together
and considered as an active unity.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 269
Whether or not this is a sufficient account of the origin
of species is a question upon which we cannot enter at any
length here, and it is the less necessary to do so as we
have elsewhere explained our views and the arguments
which, in our opinion, support them.
It is, of course, obvious that the origin of a new species
must be due to the development of new positive characters
which distinguish it from other species; the action of nature
can be but that of a pruning-knife applied to the sprouting
tree of organic life.
This, of course, 'Darwin well knew, and he never for a
moment pretended (as some of his opponents have very un-
justly and foolishly represented that he did pretend) that
" natural selection " could account for, or produce, the
variations upon the occurrence of which the origin of every
new species must absolutely depend.
But Mr. Darwin was most exceptionally fortunate in the
character of his hypothesis, for it was of such a nature as to
be almost incapable of disproof. Having taken up the
position that every characteristic of a species exists through
its utility to that species, and that it may be assumed to
have so originated unless proof to the contrary can be given,
his opponent was thereby reduced to sore straits indeed, and
it would be similar even if we knew, from some infallible
source, that the hypothesis was a false one.
For its opponent would have to show that minute, hap-
hazard variations in all directions in all the organs of every
species, were impossible or did not take place; he would
also have to show that there were structures or functions
possessed by some species which were not only of no use
to it now, but could never have been of any use to any of
its ancestors at any period of the world's history, or, under
any possible conditions, of any use to even any hypo-
thetical ancestor which an advocate of " natural selection "
2/O THE -GROUND WORK OF SCIENCE
can suggest may have existed under conditions widely
divergent from those which form the present environment
of the species in question. A disciple of Mr. Darwin can
also always say: " It is very true that this or that charac-
ter could not have been produced by ' natural selection '
directly, but it may have been produced by it indirectly,
for you cannot deny that it may have been an accompani-
ment of some other character which was useful." Thus
such a disciple may claim a victory on the mere ground of
his being able to imagine some possible cause for the past
or present existence of which he is unable to bring forward
a shadow of proof.
The Darwinian is free to invoke climatic changes, geo-
graphical modifications, and the presence or the absence
of rivals or of enemies at his will and discretion. Easy, in-
deed, is it for such an one, with some flexibility of imagina-
tion, to construct suggestions of utility when provided with
such an unlimited field of free speculation. Let an animal
be black, and reasons can be very readily found to show that
blackness may have saved it from destruction. Let it be
shown to be white, and another set of reasons are easily im-
agined to show that the snowier its tints, the more assured
are its chances of survival. Thus, upon a rabbit's white tail
being adduced as a character dangerously conspicuous, it
has been replied, " Oh, but it serves as a signal in danger
to guide the young on their way to the burrow! "
Perhaps the most notable character of the Darwinian
theory is the extraordinary easiness of its advocacy and
difficulty of its refutation, quite apart from any question of
its truth. The chances of its author in such a game of
biological speculation can only be expressed by the well-
known vulgarism, " Heads I win, tails you lose."
Nevertheless, there are characters which as it has always
seemed and still seems to us defy explanation even amidst
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 2? I
such extraordinary facilities. Some such could easily be
now brought forward, but it would be out of place to adduce
them here, as, though " natural selection" has some in-
direct bearing on Epistemology, the question as to the origin
of animals and plants has none save in one respect only.
The tendency of Darwinism has plainly and manifestly
been to propagate a conviction that the origin of species
has been due -to what we must call chance that is, not to
any rational cause. The essence of the hypothesis is the
origin of species by the fortuitous action of the destructive
forces of nature on individuals which differ by innate, in-
definite, haphazard variations in all directions. Purposeless
energy is conceived as the cause of the variations, and the
selection of certain kinds is also conceived of as due to the
chance action of physical forces and of other organisms.
By this expression we mean, of course, that the cause of
variation is thus deemed to be not only unknown, but to
be due to no definite law which is the outcome of any kind
or sort of intelligent energy. By this system, then, un-
reason may be regarded as practically lord of the universe,
and the source of all the beauties and harmonies which exist
in organic nature.
The above philosophical conception, which underlies the
Darwinian theory, has a very distinct though indirect bear-
ing on Epistemology, as we shall see later on.
We must now return to the consideration of the asserted
genesis by " natural selection " of the inevitable character
of our perceptions of an external, extended world. The
main answer to this objection is the answer which we shall
shortly give to all the theories concerning the origin of
human knowledge. It consists in pointing out that what is
supremely important is not the origin of knowledge but the
grounds of knowledge the reasons why it should and must
be confided in and trusted. It is strange that 'so many
2/2 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
persons should be blind to this fact, which, in our eyes, is
so obvious a truth.
But, putting aside for the present this reply, let us
consider whether we possess any knowledge which could
not have been due to the action of " natural selection "
upon minute variations in the clearness and extent of our
perceptions.
Now, as we have more than once before pointed out, our
intuition of the extended is not the most absolutely certain
of our intuitions or one of the highest rank, and it certainly
is not our only intuition.
If it did stand alone, if that were our only intuition, then
there might be some plausibility in attributing its origin to
such a cause. But we possess other intuitions which
" natural selection " could never have developed. If,
therefore, we are forced to assign the existence and develop-
ment of those other intuitions to some cause quite different
from " natural selection," then the cause which developed
them may obviously also have developed our invincible con-
viction that an external, independent universe of extended
objects (things in themselves) exists.
Now amongst the intuitions possessed by us for which
" natural selection " cannot account, are those gained by
our reflex consciousness respecting the necessary truth of
first principles, such as that of the principle of contradiction,
the force of the word " therefore," the certainty that for
every new existence there must be a cause, etc.
But more striking still, in this relation, are our certainties
about purely hypothetical verities, e. g., " If premisses are
false or uncertain no certain conclusion can be derived
therefrom " ; " If an engine can travel only thirty miles an
hour, it could never traverse one hundred miles in an hour
and a half " ; " If A, having been entrusted with money to
pay a debt of B, should spend it in gratifying some desire
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 2/3
of his own, he would commit an unjust act," etc. (< Natural
selection " has efficiency to compel action in harmony with
the requirements of physical conditions, but none to teach
us speculative, and especially hypothetical, propositions.
If, then, there is some efficient cause which can, inde-
pendently of " natural selection," produce these intuitive
results, a fortiori it could produce the indefinitely minor
effect, namely, " sense-perception," the apprehension of
spatial relations, and a conviction that the objects we
see and feel really exist independently of any imaginable
feelings.
We have said above that had we no other intuition save
that of things extended, that intuition might plausibly be
attributed to the action of " natural selection." But it
certainly would be only a plausible attribution, and not a
truly reasonable one. For, as we have seen, " natural
selection" can give rise to nothing; all it can do is to
favour the existence and development of that which has
already risen.
But between a mere sense-perception such as we suppose
animals to possess exclusively, and an intellectual intuition,
there is a profound difference of kind, and such a difference
can never arise by spontaneous development. For the
origin of a new kind of perception a new power and faculty
some adequate cause must intervene, as we have lately
urged when considering the law of causation. 1
Between a power which can reflect upon its experiences
and recognise relations as relations, gifted with self-con-
sciousness and the power of ratiocination, and another
power which possesses none of these things, it would surely
be difficult to exagerate the difference.
And yet this difference is by no means all the divergence
which exists between the mind of man and the highest
1 See ante, p. 256.
18
274 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
psychical power commonly attributed exclusively to animals.
There is, further, the power of apprehending a distinction
between right and wrong, and conceiving of moral respon-
sibility, and also the power of forming abstract ideas and
apprehending absolute, necessary, and universal truths as
such. Surely the difference between a nature possessing
all these powers and one which has them not, must, indeed,
be a difference of kind.
The difference of kind which we have before l represented
as existing (and which we consider does exist) between man
and mere animals, must, we hope, be now evident to the
reader's mind.
Nevertheless, as we declared when directly considering
the psychical powers of brutes, we have no desire to dog-
matise with respect to this matter. That there is, and must
be, a very real and great difference of kind between a
nature essentially, though latently, intellectual, and possess-
ing a capacity for the apprehension of these highest truths,
and a merely sensitive power, is, for us, unquestionable.
But whether that higher psychical nature exists latent and
incapable of manifestation in animals, as it does in the human
infant, is a question not absolutely evident, though, as we
believe, the amount of evidence which does exist tells
strongly against the view that animals have a nature which
is in its essence potentially rational.
Yet there is no absolute impossibility that they may, and,
if they do, then variations in the amount and kinds of its
incipient and ultimate manifestations might have been de-
veloped by " natural selection." But to this question we
shall return in our next and final chapter, when we consider
possibilities as to the nature of the cosmos. Were human
intelligence really evolved from a hidden intelligence in
animals, that fact would in no way invalidate or weaken the
1 See ante, p. 214.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 275
difference between a higher nature, such as man's, and a
much lower one, such as that commonly attributed to
animals. Its only effect would be, as before said, to raise
mere animal life in our esteem, and in no way to depress or
diminish our respect for our own mental powers. It would
be a process of psychical " levelling up."
It is the opposite process, that of ' ' levelling down, ' ' which
is so profoundly unreasonable, and which we shall almost
immediately 1 proceed to consider.
Thus one and the same answer can be given to all the dif-
ferent representations which have been made concerning the
value to be attributed to human perceptions and the de-
velopment of intelligence from the germ, as to which differ-
ent persons have advanced special claims for exceptional
security of one and another mode, as lately stated. All
such inquiries are interesting and valuable for some purposes
(such as the study of the human mind), but they are all
utterly beside the question which supremely concerns us.
We have seen * that the ultimate ground of certainty,
whatever proposition we may be considering, is, and must
be, its own intrinsic self-evidence its manifest certainty in
and by itself.
All inquiries into the origin and causes of our convictions
whether they are gained by experience, or innate, or
dawning in the mind of the infant, or only acquired at men-
tal maturity, or brought forth from intelligence latent at
birth, or brought forth by " natural selection " from in-
telligence truly latent in our animal ancestors are futile for
Epistemology.
That a fruit we at the same time see, feel, smell, and taste
exists ; that it cannot, at the same time, have a seed within
it and be seedless ; that we are the same person we were be-
fore we saw this fruit ; that if we give half of it away, what
1 See infra, p. 277. 8 See ante, pp. 221-222.
276 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
of it remains to us will be thereby diminished ; that if all
peaches are juicy, and we know a peach has been given to
a child, we may be sure it has been given something juicy;
that if a fruit was in a cupboard, but is now there no longer,
its absence is to be attributed to some cause, and that a
really ungrateful action must be bad are plain truths, no
whit less certain whatever may have been the mode in which
we have come to know them. In other words, the certainty
of our knowledge of the objective reality of bodies, and of
the objective validity of the first principles of human intel-
ligence, is in no way affected by the nature of the agency,
or the modes of action, which have furnished us with the
certainty we possess. That is of the highest possible kind,
so that no one can even conceive of any mode by which
greater certainty could be given to us than is given to us by
self-evidence. It matters not to us what was the intellectual
condition of our immediate or our remote ancestors, nor
what was our state in infancy, nor how it was we acquired
the intellectual intuitions we have. Their validity is not
affected thereby, for their self-evidence to us, hie et nunc, is
clear and luminous. Of nothing else have we, or can we
have, such complete and absolute certainty.
So far, then, the suggestion of the development the im-
proving and perfecting of intellect through the action of
" natural selection " upon creatures already latently intel-
ligent, and varying in their approximations towards its
incipient manifestations, is one which has no bearing upon
Epistemology, and may therefore be put aside by us, as
nothing but a waste of time could ensue from its further
study.
Very different, however, are the consequences which
ensue from that approximation between the highest psychi-
cal powers of men and brutes, which we have spoken of ! as
1 See ante, p. 275.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 277
a " levelling down/' and from the philosophical system
which underlies ' the system put forth by Mr. Darwin, and
that which Mr. Herbert Spencer has recently brought to
its termination. The consequences which thence ensue do
indeed bear upon the science of Epistemology, and, indeed,
not only upon the groundwork of science, but upon every
separate science, and therefore, necessarily, on the basis of
them all. They are thus fatal because they spring from,
and can only exist with, a complete want of apprehension
of what the human intellect is and what are its powers.
In the first place, we now desire to call attention to the
law and principle which Mr. Spencer has enunciated as
specially his own, and as one extending from the founda-
tion of his whole philosophical construction to its highest
pinnacle.
This great law and principle propounded by him his
version of the process of evolution is the assertion that all
things in nature are proceeding "from an indefinite, incoher-
ent homogeneity to a definite, coherent heterogeneity. ' '
It will be well for all readers who may be inclined to defer
to and reverence Mr. Herbert Spencer's doctrines, to ponder
a little over this, his first principle, which he long ago chose
as a starting-point, and which his very latest writings pro-
fess to enforce and illustrate.
The process and procession of evolutionary changes are
thus declared by him to start from what is homogeneous,
incoherent, and indefinite ! Could any procession be more
unfortunate as to its starting-point, any process more neces-
sarily impotent, any philosophical structure more baseless ?
Hegel has received far more than his share of ridicule for
saying that " being and not-being are identical." But
Hegel was dealing with abstract ideas, regarded in a certain
way, while Mr. Spencer is busy about concrete things. As
1 P. 271.
278 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
to them he, in effect, makes an assertion which is utterly
self-contradictory. The starting-point of his procession lies
nowhere, the fulcrum for his process is nonentity, and the
foundation of his system is an absolute vacuum.
For, according to him, everything depends for its origin
on the " indefinite," and, most unfortunately for Mr.
Spencer, the " indefinite " is just what does not, never did,
and never can exist.
It is absolutely impossible for any concrete entity to be
" indefinite." Whatever is, is necessarily a thing of some
kind or another. It must have certain qualities and charac-
ters, be they what they may. Let us conceive of the most
attenuated and amorphous nebula we can ; it must yet be
quite definite. It must have some composition, some char-
acters of cohesion and possible resistance, some limits as to
size, and some shape, change as it may from instant to in-
stant. In reality it is as definite a thing as a plum-pudding,
and it is nothing but a trick of the imagination which may
make it seem not to be so. Less easily perceived by our
sense-organs, and therefore less easy to imagine and less
easy to describe, it certainly is. But less " definite " it no
less certainly is not.
Here then, at the very base, or the very starting-point, of
Mr. Spencer's whole philosophy, lies an absurdity so pro-
found as necessarily to destroy the philosophical value of
the entire system based upon it. And his system agrees
with that " levelling-down " method of treating human in-
telligence which now demands our attention. We need,
however, occupy but little space here or little of our reader's
attention, if he is already convinced that self-evidence, as
recognised by the intellect, is the supreme and ultimate
criterion of the truth of those propositions which lie at the
base of all our " ordered knowledge " i. e., of all science.
The process of " levelling down " seeks to explain our
CA USES OF SCIENTIFIC KNO WLEDGE 2?$
highest faculties by our lowest, and to make not intellect
but sense the criterion of our judgments. After what we
have before pointed out, we think it needless further to
criticise that fundamental error which forms a main part of
the system of philosophy which underlies the system known
as Darwinism. Its result, for those who are so unfortunate
as not to have forced their way through it, is to hide from
their intellectual eyesight the objective truth of these prin-
ciples which are logically necessary for all science, 1 and
which if not (as they should be) expressly accepted, must at
least be unconsciously assumed when pursuing science.
The ultimate result of that system is necessarily self-
destructive, ending (when consistently carried out to its
consequences) in a scepticism which amounts to intellectual
paralysis.
The system to which we here specially refer is that which
affirms the essential relativity of knowledge.
Now that all human knowledge is relative is, in one sense,
of course, a most obvious truth. Our knowledge plainly
depends upon and is relative to our powers of discernment
and reasoning our senses and our intellect. Had we more
senses we should doubtless know many things which we now
cannot even conceive of because the imaginations necessary
for such conceptions are lacking. Had we deeper powers
of intuition and a greater capacity for ratiocination our
knowledge would be indefinitely increased thereby. In
such senses as these our knowledge is truly relative. But
though we can thus know only in part, we -can know many
truths with absolute certainty and complete adequacy, and
we can and do see the self-evident certainty and complete-
ness of such knowledge.
Even Omniscience could not know with an essentially
greater certainty than we do the fact of our own existence,
1 See ante, chapter iv.
280 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
the fact that one moon, and not two, circles round our planet,
the truth of the principles of contradiction and causality,
etc. About such knowledge there can be no uncertainty on
the ground of its relativity or on any other ground. It is
absolute knowledge. But this is what the upholders of
the doctrine of its relativity deny. They deny that, being
relative, it can ever at the same time be absolutely and per-
fectly true.
This system became, a short time ago, widely popular,
and its doctrines may be conveniently summed up as
follows :
(1) All our knowledge is merely relative.
(2) We can know nothing but phenomena.
(3) We cannot be supremely certain as to our substantial
existence.
(4) We cannot emerge from subjectivity and attain any
knowledge of objective truths.
The second, third, and fourth of these doctrines we have
already, we hope, sufficiently passed in review. As to the
mere assertion of relativity as implying untruth or untrust-
worthiness, a very brief consideration will, we think, suffice.
Every system of knowledge must start with the assump-
tion, implied or expressed, that something is true and can
be certainly known so to be. Therefore, those who uphold
the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge must evidently
hold, since they honestly teach it, that their doctrine of the
relativity of knowledge is true and can be known with
certainty to be true.
Yet if we cannot know that any of our internal convictions
correspond with objective reality, if nothing we can assert
can be and be known by us to be absolutely true and cer-
tain, then this character must also appertain to the doctrine
of the " relativity of knowledge." Either, then, this system
of philosophy is merely uncertain, and cannot be known to
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 28 1
be true, or else it is absolutely true and can be known so to
be.
But it must be merely uncertain, and possibly untrue, if
everything which any human being can ever know is such.
Its value then can be only " relative," cannot be known to
correspond with external reality, and cannot, therefore, be
declared to be true. Now anybody who asserts that he can
know it to be true, thereby asserts that it is false to say
that all our knowledge is relative and cannot be known to
be true. But in that case some of our knowledge must be
absolute. Therefore, he who asserts that all our knowledge
is necessarily relative and uncertain, affirms at the same
time that some of it is necessarily absolute and certain, and
thus plainly and explicitly contradicts himself. With a
perception of which fact the reader need not, we think,
trouble himself any further concerning the doctrine of the
necessary relativity of knowledge.
But is the special Darwinian view, which regards the
forms of the organic world as being the result of minute in-
definite variations acted on by the chance conflict of for-
tuitous influences of all kinds, one which really harmonises
with the teaching of nature ?
The universe open to our ken gives us no positive evidence
of life elsewhere than in our planet. No doubt, analogy
suggests that many other worlds are inhabited, and for our
own part we cannot doubt that such must be the case.
Still, from what astronomers teach us, it would seem that
great spaces in the heavens are destitute of animal or vege-
table life, and that the worlds which are destitute of it pro-
bably predominate in number. Even in our solar system
the majority of its planets seem unfitted to be the abode
of living creatures.
When, from considerations of extent as regards space, we
turn to consider duration and ponder over the past history
282 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
of our own globe, it seems difficult to think that the vast
series of succeeding ages which have seen so many races of
living beings successively arise and perish, were not preceded
by even a vaster series during which the earth revolved a
mere mass of inorganic matter.
And even in our own day such inorganic matter forms an
enormously preponderating part of its total composition.
How small a film upon its surface would be formed were
the whole mass of creatures now living spread over it.
Surely, then, when we begin to consider the universe
known to us, as its laws, as one whole, it becomes clear that
the vastly preponderating inorganic part of it is what we
should take as our norm, or standard of comparison, when
endeavouring to understand, as far as we may, the nature
of its constitution and laws. It is to the inorganic world
we must address ourselves if we would attain to the most
comprehensive view possible for us, of the order and method
which dominates and pervades nature. Such is especially
the case since, however we may be impressed by the pro-
bability that life such as exists in this world exists also in
others, we cannot actually know that such is the case. But
we do actually know, by the aid of spectrum analysis, that
the laws, properties, and species of inorganic substances,
such as those of our own earth, do extend into the remotest
regions of the cosmos which our telescopes enable us to
explore.
What, then, is the order of nature revealed to us by the
inorganic world?
Throughout that world and amongst the multitude of
mineral, and especially of crystalline, species which compose
it, most definite and ceaseless order reigns.
Each species has its own absolute internal constitution
and laws by which it continues to be, from age to age, just
what it is and no other, whether or not such stable sub-
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 283
stances originally arose from diverse combinations of one
primitive matter.
And the changes which take place in that inorganic world
are all most definite and ruled by rigid laws. All the
various chemical combinations which can and do take place
are definite combinations. And only certain such combina-
tions are possible. Mix substances, compound or element-
ary, as we may, we can only induce certain syntheses
resulting in new substances, and by no means a fresh sub-
stance for every possible blend.
These various syntheses, moreover, can only take place
under certain definite conditions, and most frequently the
states and properties of the separate substances, the syn-
thesis of which produces a new one, by no means give a
clue to the states and properties possessed by such new sub-
stance. Of this fact, the simplest and most familiar of all
chemical syntheses the synthesis of oxygen and hydrogen
in the production of water affords an instance as striking
as it is familiar. Between the physical condition of the
substances before synthesis and that of the new substance
after synthesis, there is a manifest breach of continuity.
Somehow or other we meet here, as in the instances pre-
viously given, 1 with a " new departure." Surely we could
hardly have more plain and unmistakable evidence of per-
manent law and order than that with which the inorganic
world supplies us.
But law and order are not the only characteristics of
the cosmos thus made evident : symmetry and beauty are
not less conspicuous. In crystals, as they form from so-
lution, the most definite, and often the most charmingly
symmetrical, forms are produced. Nor are the junctions of
crystals with crystals in compound aggregations less orderly
and beautiful, as we see in the fern-like growths upon our
1 See ante, pp. 213-214.
284 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
window-panes during frost, and in the marvellous symmetry
of snowflakes.
What, again, is more wonderful than the beauty of mar-
ble and serpentine, of malachite and lapis lazuli, of the sap-
phire, the emerald, and the opal, and the other gems of dif-
ferent hues as well as the silky, fibrous textures and flakes
as of pearl which the mineral world has produced ? The
lovely and varied tints of humming-birds, of butterflies, and
of some Coleoptera are thus rivalled, while neither beauty
of tint nor matchless symmetry of form can, even in them,
have been the product of that process suggested by Mr.
Darwin as auxiliary to " natural selection," namely,
" sexual selection." '
Yet all these species have their special properties and
active powers their definite physiology as have, pre-
eminently, all crystalline substances their complete and
specific anatomy.
Passing now from the consideration of the inorganic world
1 According to that notion, all the special characteristics of the male sex in
each species all that seems to us beautiful, bizarre, or revolting (strength and
nimbleness apart) have been evolved by means of the constantly recurring ex-
ercise of choice by the female amongst contending suitors. We thus find it as
impossible as ever to believe that the brilliant tints displayed by certain apes
were thus produced, when we recall to mind what are the psychical natures of
the females, and the physical force of their would-be spouses.
The tastes of female animals also must not only have been strangely diverse
but wonderfully persistent. One of the oddest notions thus promulgated was
the assignment to such feminine influence of the gradual denuding of men's backs
of the hairy coat with which they were supposed to be at first copiously clothed.
It is evident that the primitive ladies of the Kalmuck and Persian nationalities
differed widely in their sentiments as regards the beard ; but, nevertheless (if
the theory is true), the females of every tribe and nation of mankind in spite
of the frequent mutations of fashion must have unanimously and persistently
agreed in abhorring hirsute shoulders, and this though the females amongst
their immediate pithecoid, supposed ancestors entertained a directly opposite
sentiment. We refer our readers, as to sexual selection, to a work on Animal
Colouration, by Mr. Frank E. Bedhard, F.R.S. London, 1892.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 285
to that of the world of life, and granting the truth of the
hypothesis of evolution, it seems to us clear that we ought
to start on our inquiry imbued with the lesson impressed on
us by the characteristics of the practically infinite and eternal
laws of the inorganic universe, which lies apart from the
brief and passing episode of existence endowed with life.
The anticipations of the kind with which we shall thus set
out on our exploration will by no means be disappointed
when we come to consider the beautiful sculpturing of
the hard parts of many very lowly organisms, such as
Diatoms, and the complex symmetry displayed by Fora-
minifera, and, above all, by the siliceous skeletons of num-
erous Radiolarians. How remarkable is the sculpture on
certain pollen grains, on many an egg-shell, as also the
patterns on various shells, and on multitudes of feathers and
of flowers. As little is it conceivable that they should have
been brought about by " natural selection," as that it
should have caused the pearly lining of shells or their sub-
superficial beauty, or that of gems and other minerals buried
for ages in the bowels of the earth.
One of the most obvious characters presented by the bodies
of animals, including our own, is that each has a right and left
side, and that these two sides, and their parts, correspond as
our right hand proverbially resembles our left one. When
deeply considered, this fact is by itself sufficient to prove
that the body of an animal has its own innate laws, which
regulate its development ; for this kind of correspondence
technically called " bilateral symmetry " shows itself not
only in these familiar conditions, but in the effects of disease
and in very peculiar structures found in some exceptional
species of animals. Indeed, on the hypothesis that a blood-
relationship of descent binds together different kinds of
animals, nature actually forces upon us the perception that
new and more intensely marked forms of bilateral symmetry
286 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
have arisen in a space of time which, geologically considered,
must be called brief. Thus, naturalists now are generally
agreed that birds have descended from reptiles; but the
very diversity of the bilateral symmetry which exists be-
tween the two wings of birds on the one part, and between
their two legs on the other part, is far more striking than
any which is found in their hypothetical progenitors.
Another form of bodily symmetry in animals is known as
" serial symmetry." Such symmetry is most plainly seen
and obvious in the successively similar segments and pairs
of limbs in the centipede and its allies; but it is also to be
traced in the bony structure of the human chest, with its
successive ribs, in the series of bones (called vertebrae) which
compose our spinal column or backbone, and in the resem-
blances which can be traced between the arm and the leg and
between the hand and the foot.
A vast number of instances of variations which have ap-
peared suddenly have recently been brought forward in a
very interesting and important work. 1 It has been sought
to lessen the value of these instances on the ground that the
great majority of them may be called " monstrosities."
But this effort shows much shallowness of mind on the part
of those who made it. For what, after all, is the real nature
of these variations ? However they may merit to be called
monstrosities," as structures out of harmony with the
whole whereof they form a part, they are, almost all of
them, orderly and perfect in themselves. They eloquently
proclaim that organic nature is not a passive mass of matter,
devoid of innate laws of self-regulation, but that every frag-
ment of it, even each of its very aberrations, is replete with
order of its own kind and in its due degree.
It is impossible to have somewhat widely studied the
1 Materials for the Study of Variation, by William Bateson, M.A. Lon-
don, 1892.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 287
science of zoology or that of botany without being impressed
with the plain fact that considerable or small gaps between
the various kinds of living creatures are manifest on all sides.
The existing creation is plainly discontinuous, not only in
the inorganic world, but also in that which is organic, how-
ever much its gaps may be filled up by the discovery of the
remains of organisms which exist no longer.
That they could ever be entirely filled up had we full
cognisance of every form of life which has passed away, can-
not certainly be affirmed with reasonable confidence when
we reflect on the great facts of discontinuity to which we
before called attention. 1
There is, in the first place, the chasm which exists between
everything which lives and all that is devoid of life. Grant-
ing that the universe may have had such a constitution that,
upon the occurrence of certain conditions, life (which pre-
viously existed in potentia] should suddenly manifest itself,
such a possible process of evolution does not make it less
the fact that for all our experience no life arises save from
what already lives, and could never come to be save through
some adequate cause.
Secondly, there is the chasm between everything which
feels and all that is devoid of sensation. Everyone must
admit that this chasm exists everyone, that is, who is not
prepared to affirm that the pen he writes with and the ink
he uses are not both sentient existences.
For ourselves, we are profoundly convinced that we cause
no pang when we pluck an apple from a tree, and that we
may send grain to the mill with a perfectly good conscience.
But if the living world enables us to understand these two
great instances of discontinuity, that world, when we include
men within it, makes us aware of a chasm much greater
still : we mean the chasm which yawns between every being
1 See ante, p. 213.
288 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
capable of self-consciousness and a recognition that some
things are true and some actions laudable, and all that is
devoid of self-conscious life.
The laws which we have seen to be impressed, not only
upon mineral species, but also upon structure as known to
us in plants and animals, though they cannot be said to
coincide with the dictates of human reason, yet proclaim
order as innate in the world so far as it is known to us; and
law and order are certainly akin to intelligence taken in the
broadest significance we can assign to it.
We have briefly considered certain facts concerning the
inorganic and organic worlds, but to form any satisfactory
conception of either, it is necessary to take into our con-
sideration, as best we may, the entire cosmos as one whole.
Preceding considerations must, we think, make it plain to
every thoughtful mind possessing a somewhat wide grasp of
science, that the universe does not consist of an unordered
flux of amorphous matter.
So much is evident, a posteriori. Experience and science
show that something analogous to reason, as we know it,
pervades the great whole, the existence of which is revealed
to us by the synthesis of our mental powers.
Can we gain any further light as to this matter by a priori
reasoning ?
We saw in our last chapter that the law of causation is a
primary, universal, and self-evident objective truth, which
declares that there must be a cause for every change which
takes place, for every new existence which comes into being
(an extreme form of "change"), for the special concrete
conditions of whatever exists, and for the very existence of
anything which has not within itself a sufficient reason for
its being. We also saw J that science is continually occupied
with investigations concerning causes.
1 See ante, p. 255.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 289
But the world is in a condition of incessant change, and
new existences are constantly arising within it. The entire
universe known to us is also incessantly changing, and new
conditions are incessantly arising, for the planetary and
sidereal bodies are never for two instants in the same relat-
ive positions, and, apparently, their relative position of any
one moment never recurs, but is ceaselessly replaced by
another altogether novel.
That each and every one of these changes, new collo-
cations, and new existences must have had its causes
its group of causes cannot be denied; and more and
more of these are every day being discovered by men of
science.
But putting aside now all questions as to the causes of
existences and changes considered individually or in groups,
how about the universe considered as one great, unimagin-
ably complex whole ? In the first place, does reason abso-
lutely show that it must have had a beginning ? That our
own world, her sister planets, and our whole solar system
must have had a beginning can hardly be questioned ; but
it does not seem necessarily thence to follow that the same
must be said of the whole cosmos. It certainly is not evi-
dent to us that the cosmos, considered as one vast unity,
must have had a beginning, or need ever come to an end.
For all we see, the universe may constitute a true system of
perpetual motion in one of two ways. It may be conceived
of (i) as eternally passing, as one whole, from a state of
nebula to that of suns, with their attendant planets, their
satellites, etc., and thence backwards to a state of nebula
once more, and so alternating in one unending rhythm, un-
ceasingly pulsating to and from a nebular condition, for
ever and ever ; or (2) as undergoing such changes partially,
at one time here, at another time there, such a change eter-
nally creeping, as it were, over the face of the cosmos, so
THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
that each part in turn, but never the whole simultaneously,
may undergo such a transformation.
Such conditions, for anything that reason can affirm with
certainty, might be eternal as the result of an eternal arrange-
ment or collocation of causal agencies and conditions.
As we before pointed out, 1 our reason by no means affirms
that everything must have a cause, but only changes, new
existences, and existences which do not contain within
themselves any sufficient reasons for their being.
Now if the universe ever had a beginning, it must evi-
dently have had a cause. If it never had a beginning, it
must as a whole have eternally been what we now see it to
be, substantially, whatever the succession of changes in its
various parts. It could never have had the form of one
universally diffused and everywhere similar substance, unless
it had been acted on from without by something external to
itself. The attribute of instability applied to the conception
of a homogeneous universe could not, as has been most ab-
surdly supposed, account for the development of the uni-
verse from a primitively simple condition. The term
" instability " is a mere abstract term denoting the quality,
as such, of what is unstable. But whatever is unstable is
not thereby endowed with any active power; it is merely
easily upset and disturbed by anything external to it. Any-
thing quite homogeneous might be unstable to the most
extreme degree possible, and yet remain absolutely un-
changed forever if nothing external ever came to act upon
it. It must be an action from without, since in a universe
absolutely homogeneous no possible change could ever take
place from within. For whatever is thus homogeneous must
be everywhere identical in the mode of its being and activ-
ity, and therefore could never change of itself unless it were
pervaded by some existence really distinct from it, change
1 See ante, p. 255.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 2gi
produced by which, though materially an action from within,
would be essentially an action from without namely, the
action of something distinct from and external to it in
nature and being.
One most important consequence follows from the fact
that the universe is necessarily one. Since the universe em-
braces all that we know now or can conceive of as hereafter
to be discovered, it is all-embracing. Were it not this, it
could not be the universe.
Now, since the universe is thus one, it could never it-
self have been evolved by any process of " natural selec-
tion." An eternal universe could never have been naturally
selected that is, have proved itself, through competition,
to have been a universe able to survive others, since it
never could have had any competitor. Therefore, if the
universe is eternal, it must have existed from all eternity
in the multiform complexity in which we know it now to
be.
On this account, reason postulates a cause for the universe,
considered as one whole, even though it were eternal. A
cause is required to account for the special orderly condi-
tions, and the definite actions of the multitudes of secondary
causes it contains, the specific laws of the bodies and sub-
stances which enter into its composition, and the peculiar
collocations of the substances, causes, and conditions which
pervade it. For the material universe cannot be shown to
contain within itself any sufficient cause for its existence
for its existence as it exists and in no other mode. An eter-
nal complex mixture of different substances, with very
different powers, all harmoniously co-ordinated, and which
were never otherwise than harmoniously co-ordinated, could
not evidently contain within itself the sufficient cause for its
own existence ; and the greater the number of the natural
laws which physical science reveals to us, thus acting in har-
THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
mony, so much the more does reason make evident to us
the necessity for one great integrating and pervading cause
sustaining that harmony unchanged. Such a cause is neces-
sary for the existence of the universe at all, and however
far back the duration of such a universe be supposed to ex-
tend, even to eternity, so far back must the duration of its
cause evidently extend.
The existence and operation of that cause can be no
more dispensed with at one epoch than at another, and so
backwards for an eternity of duration. Hence, an ever-
present, constantly causing, and everywhere active and
sustaining principle must endure and energise now, as in the
past, and forever onwards for a future eternity, should the
universe persist eternally under the same laws.
As to that cause we can, in some respects, judge of its
nature from its effects, since a cause must, as we have seen, 1
always be at least adequate to produce the effects it causes.
As we said before, ' ' Nemo dat quod non habet, ' ' and what
experience and reason combined assure us is true with every
portion of the universe open to our examination, reason de-
clares to us no less necessary when applied to the universe
considered as one whole.
What, then, do our powers of sense-perception, observation,
experimentation, reasoning, and intuition, combine to assure
us respecting the nature of the causal principle underlying
and pervading the entire cosmos? No student of science
can dispute that our faculties combine to bear witness to the
universal prevalence throughout it of an unceasing uniform-
ity and a definite order. We know it to be not a chaos but
a cosmos, possessing such a uniformity, with respect to all
the different successions and co-existences within it, as to
be not inaptly termed a universe governed by natural laws
that expression serving conveniently to summarise all the
1 See ante, p. 262.
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 293
various uniformities of orderly successions and co-existences
which have been observed within it.
Though the order which we thus see pervade the organic
and inorganic worlds alike, does not clearly proclaim the
existence throughout the irrational universe of an intelligence
in a certain extent analogous to the reason of man, there is,
nevertheless, an unmistakable congruity between order and
intelligence, such that it becomes impossible to regard any-
thing non-intelligent as the dominating causal principle.
Not only would it be a verbal contradiction, but it would
contradict the evidence which science affords us on every
side, to proclaim " unreason " as pervading the orderly uni-
verse, which is made known to us by physics and biology,
quite apart from any consideration of man and of his works.
But when we add the consideration of human faculty to the
other powers and existences we know the cosmos to possess,
it must assume an altogether different character in our eyes.
So considered, its causal principle must be indeed a rational
principle, since it has been adequate to be the cause of the
reason and intellect of man.
Human beings, whatever the feebleness, follies, and de-
[ : fects of multitudes of them, are, nevertheless, endowed with
the wonderful power of knowing their own existence, of re-
flecting on it and on the universe which is their abode, and
of recognising abysses of space and time far exceeding the
\ utmost possible powers of their imagination. Man can
apprehend existence and non-existence, necessity, impossi-
bility, and contingency, and, most wonderful of all, he can
perceive truth as such, the existence and bearings of object-
ive relations and verities, which are absolute and necessary,
recognising them, meantime, for what they truly are.
The adequate cause and principle of a nature thus endowed
must possess powers indefinitely exceeding that human
reason which it has called into being. It must be intelli-
294 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
gent, not only beyond all our possible powers of imagina-
tion, but beyond all human conception. For the special
character of those primary and fundamental principles of
our intelligence which we have passed in review, is that they
need no proof, being self-evident in and by themselves,
while they constitute the indispensable foundation of all
proof whatever it may be. Such primary principles may be
said to be rays of light which radiate into our intellect from
a source which is entirely hidden from our direct mental
gaze, and only to be imperfectly apprehended through
meditation, reflection, and inference. Truth being the cor-
respondence of thought with things, what must be that
hidden cause in a correspondence with which the truth of
all our highest, ultimate, and most certain intellectual prin-
ciples consists ?
After pondering over the fact that the cause of the uni-
verse is the cause of all truth and of all the knowledge to
which it is possible for us to attain, it seems impossible to
regard it as other than an eternal and ever-present reason
latent in all the phenomena of which we can take cognisance.
If, then, we turn back our mental gaze over the devious
path we have traversed, and survey it in the light thus
gained, an important consequence appears necessarily to
follow.
We have considered, in successive chapters, a variety of
intervals, breaches of continuity, and fresh departures which
have now and again occurred in nature. We have taken note
of the gap between the non-living and the living, the insen-
tient and the sentient, the irrational and the rational. But
these breaches of continuity present a difficulty and seem
repugnant to the mind of the modern student of nature. It
needs the distinct recognition of a profound and pervading
reason, as underlying and governing nature, satisfactorily to
do away with such difficulty and repugnance, and to enable
CAUSES OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE 2$$
us to apprehend how such difficulty and repugnance may be
merely due to the impotence of our imagination to picture
to itself how such new departures could ever have taken
place. We must frankly concede the utter impossibility of
any imagination thereof, while at the same time recognising
once more the important truth that our inability to imagine
anything is no necessary bar to our conception of it or to
our perception that what is unimaginable is none the less
necessarily true and certain.
Other marvels which have similarly tried our imaginative
powers have been the varied instincts wherewith so many
animals are endowed, and the first occurrence of the exter-
nal expression of abstract ideas by human gestures and vocal
utterances. But a cause replete with intelligence as well as
power, may serve perfectly well to assure us that however
little we can picture such energies to our mental vision, the
determination of blind psychical energies and of spontaneous
intelligent efforts, resulting in the external manifestation
of new-born ideas (language), forms part, and a rational
part, of that wonderful complexity of activities of the most
diverse natures and degrees, which together compose the
wondrous cosmos, the gradual and patient comprehension
and explanation (so far as possible) of which it is the task of
science to pursue. It is its most noble task gradually, and
step by step, to make more and more plainly manifest to
the reason of man that intelligence (not only unimaginable
but inconceivable) which seems latent in the cosmos, and
to reveal itself diversely in the manifold aspects of the uni-
verse of which it is, in our eyes, the evident and ultimate
cause.
CHAPTER X
THE NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF
SCIENCE
THE various preliminary inquiries and considerations,
which it has appeared to us necessary to make or en-
tertain before addressing ourselves to the main question,
having been now disposed of, we will endeavour to draw out
what appears to us to be the answer to that main question
the question, namely, What is the groundwork of science ?
As we said in the beginning of this book, we selected for
our title the phrase " groundwork of science " because its
object was to examine the essential nature of the efforts
of scientific workers, of the tools they have to use, as well
as of that which constitutes their field of labour.
The question, then, as to what is the nature of the
groundwork of science resolves itself into the three sub-
ordinate questions :
(1) What is the nature of that field wherein scientific
labourers have to work : what is the matter of science ?
(2) What are the tools which it is absolutely necessary for
such workers to make use of in their labour ?
(3) What must be the nature and qualifications of the
workers themselves in order that they may be able to obtain
good results from their labour ?
Assuming the validity of our contention that we possess
an intuition of the extended, we have seen that the matter
296
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 297
of science consists of two divisions: (a) a division made
up of what is physical and material, and (b) a division
made up of what is mental and ideal.
The first division includes all extended bodies and their
energies ; for no concrete existence can possibly be merely
passive, but must actively respond to stimuli (as iron to the
blacksmith's hammer) according to definite internal laws,
by which powers and activities it is we recognise the nature
of each such concrete existence.
Some readers may object to our subdivision of the matter
of science on the ground that we have assigned no place to
entities of such supreme importance as the various physical
energies.
We have not, however, really omitted them, for we in-
clude them amongst the active powers of material bodies.
We have no experience of any physical energy save in con-
nection with some extended substance from which it is
sometimes said to emanate, and thence to be transmitted to
others. But the terms energy, force, light, heat, sound,
etc., are but so many abstract terms. We have no evidence
that they can really denote " substances," but only certain
real actions of real bodies considered in the abstract. Thus
light and heat are commonly thought of as set going on
their radiant but very unequal course by the fires of the sun
(as one source), and thence transmitted by the universally
disposed ether to the surrounding bodies of the solar system
beyond. Similarly, the vibratory agitation of some sensu-
ous body sets going corresponding vibrations in the air,
which may ultimately cause similar agitations within the
ears of men and animals, so giving rise ultimately to what
we know as " sounds."
This way of speaking of the transmission of energies has
not unnaturally arisen from the discovery of what was
originally termed " the correlation of the physical forces,"
298 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
in other words, the discovery of the quantitative equivalence
which exists between the different kinds of actions which
different bodies exhibit, as, e. g., between heat, light,
chemical action, motion, etc.
But though it is convenient to express such definitely cor-
relative actions of different kinds in terms of persistent
" energy," and of different kinds of persistent energy, yet
all the physical phenomena capable of expression in such
terms may also be described in terms denoting the existence
of real bodies exercising real activities in different modes.
The conception of the same, or of different bodies being
successively affected, and acting successively in different
manners, with a quantitative equivalence between the modes
of their affection and activity, seems a sufficient conception
to apply to the mechanism and action of a moving body
(e. g., a locomotive engine) and one as consonant with the
facts as is the conception of a force which is transformed
from heat into motion. On the other hand, to speak of
energy persisting and being transformed, favours the con-
ception of energy as some objectively existing substance,
which really passes out of one body and into another, and
has a positively enduring, though protean, existence.
It is often said that bodies may by impact communicate
motion, as when one suspended ball, falling against a row
of others (suspended so as to be all on the same level),
ceases itself to move, while another, the terminal one of the
series, begins to be in motion. We have here, however, no
real evidence of any " communication " or " transference "
of " motion," but only of successive and correlative motions.
The above-noted frequent mode of expression shows the
existence of a tendency to regard the abstract quality
" motion " as a substantial entity, actually passing from
one body and into another.
Thus it has sometimes been said that a coal-bed contains
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 299
the heat and light of the sun of bygone ages shut up, like
enchanted knights, within it, and set free again when that
coal comes to be burned. But, in fact, it contains nothing
of the kind, but is itself in a state resulting from bygone
solar energy, and will under certain circumstances become
active in ways similar to the activities of the sun which
produced those results in it.
But the usual mode of scientific expression relating to
these various activities of real bodies, as well as the popular
way of speaking of light, heat, etc., are, no doubt, con-
venient ; and there can be no objection to their use provided
only it be fjorne in mind that we have no evidence of
these energies being themselves substances, instead of only
peculiar modes of diverse action in substances which really
exist. It is certainly different real things which are now
and again hot, luminous, sonorous, or moving from place
to place.
Such movements are perhaps the commonest of all our
experiences, and moving things are constantly said (as we
have just remarked) to move from place to place with
greater or less rapidity in a longer or shorter space of time.
It seems to us needful, then, to make a few remarks upon
those three universally existing and continually employed
conceptions motion, space, and time.
As to motion, our conception of that idea and our intel-
lectual recognition of the motion of moving bodies are both
called forth by our sensuous perception of the latter, and
mental images of moving objects also sustain that conception
after they have been so elicited ; just as our idea of exten-
sion is elicited and sustained by parallel sensuous perceptions
and imaginations. But when once thus called forth, our
idea " motion is a single and primary idea, and cannot be
resolved into more fundamental conceptions.
Now there are no facts of experience which have been,
30O THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
and are more frequent with all of us than movements,
especially relative changes of place of solid bodies.
We have that experience in every movement of our own
frame, either in its change of place as a whole, or in the
movements of its various parts. Every breeze which sways
the smallest branches of a tree, or but makes its leaves to
vibrate, reveals it to us. Every cloud we see blown across
the sky and every dust-eddy gives us that experience. By
movements, the dawning human intellect is first aroused to
activity as the infant notices the movements and gestures
of those around it, and the movements it can itself impart
to objects it begins to grasp or kick against. * In boyhood
the throwing of stones or balls, the movements of marbles,
the spinning of tops, and all games up to football and
cricket, continually reinforce the experiences gained at the
dawn of mental life.
Indeed, the motion of solid bodies is the most primitive,
most constant, and most universal of all our experiences.
Thus the abstract idea " motion " comes most readily be-
fore the mind, and at first it seems that nothing can be
easier than to understand the movements of bodies, and
what is meant by the term denoting that idea. And for
most purposes of science an apprehension of that ordinary
meaning is aimply sufficient ; but here, including as we do,
and must do, in our purview the science of sciences, we
think it incumbent on us to endeavour to draw out more
carefully the significance of the idea with which we are now
concerned.
When we proceed to study our conception of motion,
various difficulties and problems present themselves for solu-
tion. Obviously, any given object, e. g. , a feather blown
by the wind, must be one and the same thing when so pro-
pelled as when resting on the ground. Nevertheless, it is
no less obviously in a different state when in motion from
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 301
that in which it is when at rest. What, then, do we really
mean by its " motion " ? As we have said, that term is
abstract, and therefore what it denotes cannot really exist
in the concrete; yet there must be some concrete reality
which is the foundation of that abstraction.
Now in all our experience, whatever has moved has
always moved away from the vicinity of something and in
the direction of something else. This uniform experience
must of course prevent us from being able to imagine motion
taking place in any other mode. But can we conceive
of its taking place otherwise ? To us it seems perfectly clear
that motion must be, not only in some definite direction
at each instant, but also from one entity and towards
another.
Some of my readers may think that, were all objects save
one annihilated, one might nevertheless traverse space.
Now if space were a real, permanent existence, then any
object moving through it would of course proceed from the
vicinity of one part of it to the vicinity of another portion
of space ; but if, as we believe to be the case, there is no
such thing as " space " at all, then evidently no object could
traverse it, for no object could traverse that which has no
existence.
But if space does not exist, it is evident that the universe,
considered as one whole, must be absolutely incapable of
motion, save internally. Such is the case, since the uni-
verse must contain everything, or it would not be the
universe; and therefore there can be nothing for it to
approach or recede from.
Thus motion is, or includes, a relation of one body to
another or to other bodies. But can this be all ? Can
there be nothing more objective in motion ?
We have seen the wide-spread tendency which exists to
speak of the physical energies as if they were material sub-
3O2 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
stances. Is this the result of a pure delusion, or can there
be a true and valid objective foundation for it ?
Evidently motion, heat, light, etc., cannot be so many
material substances co-existing beside, or within, any
moving, hot, or luminous body. The days of " phlogiston "
are at an end. But is it possible that they may each sever-
ally be a manifestation of some immaterial constituent of
bodies ?
Every material body known to us we know through some
power or quality which we perceive it to possess, whereby
we also distinguish it from other bodies. But the active
powers which thus pervade material bodies are no more
themselves material than are motion, light, and heat.
But what is matter ? It is an entity perceived intellectu-
ally by the aid of our sensitivity, and constituting those
substantial objects of which our senses take cognisance.
Through our sense-perceptions the intellect acquires an in-
tuition, not only of extended bodies, but also of matter, as,
at least in part, composing them. Yet though matter is
thus constantly and familiarly known as existing in bodies,
pure and simple, " matter " itself remains unknown, and
has never been revealed to any man, and shows no signs of
existing in rerum naturd.
What we always perceive is matter of one or another
definite kind. It is always a " sort of matter," and never
simply" matter," which we come to know. Matter seems
never to exist unmodified, though it abounds in unimagin-
able transformations of material substances of all kinds.
Thus every material body or substance known to us seems
to consist of something corresponding with our idea of mat-
ter, and something immaterial some energy existing with
the matter whereby that body or substance comes to possess
and exercise those active powers which make it known to us
as being whatever kind of body or substance it may happen
NA TURE OF THE GRO UND WORK OF SCIENCE 303
to be that immaterial constituent being the active and
dominant principle. But we do not by any means intend
to assert that this view is an absolutely certain and evident
one. We nevertheless regard it as highly probable, and we
think it not unlikely that this may be the truth which the
system of Monism shadows forth, as it seems to us, imper-
fectly and irrationally.
We have spoken of any motion of the universe in its en-
tirety as being an impossibility. Some of our readers may
exclaim, " This is, indeed, impossible, because the universe
is, and must be, infinite." But this is an utter mistake,
and one due to that inveterate slavery of the reason to the
imagination under which so many persons even some men
of science seem content to remain.
We have never seen anything with nothing beyond it, and
therefore, try as we may, we can never imagine a final limit
outside which nothing is or can be. We cannot imagine a
boundary line over which no arm could be thrust, and be-
yond which no glance even could ever be cast. Such being
the case, it is, and must be, an utterly futile attempt to im-
agine the universe as terminated, and without any possibil-
ity of existence beyond it. But our impotence to imagine
the universe as finite is no reason whatever for thinking that
finite it cannot be.
Passing now from the consideration of the extent of the
universe, it seems needful to say a few words with respect
to prevalent conceptions respecting its composition, what
may be the ultimate nature of all the various activities it
manifests, and whether they can be resolved into one funda-
mental activity.
Nothing is more marked, or more remarkable, than the
tendency of many scientific men to try to describe all
other phenomena in terms of motion, and especially by the
motion of minute moving particles. This may be in terms
304 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
of such moving particles, " molecular motion," or a" dance
of atoms," of a differently complex pattern in each case, 1
or it may be in terms of brain waves or thrills traversing
the nerves, in the case of feelings or of thoughts. A me-
chanical explanation of all nature is an avowed ideal with
many men, and is felt as a comfort by very many more.
So wide-spread a tendency must be due to no less wide-
spread a cause, and it is a fact that men do feel a certain
satisfaction and mental rest in such an interpretation of
phenomena of all orders, from physical energies to feelings
and thoughts. What, then, may be the reason for this
1 A striking example of this tendency has been shown by Professor Haeckel,
who ventures to describe atoms as if he had actually seen and handled them.
He tells us that (in his Monism, pp. 26 and 32 of the English Translation,
Adam and Charles Black, 1894) : " To these original or mass atoms the ulti-
mate discrete particles of inert ' ponderable ' matter we can with more or less
probability ascribe a number of eternal and inalienable fundamental attributes ;
they are probably everywhere in space of like magnitude and constitution. Al-
though possessing a very definite finite magnitude, they are, by virtue of their
very nature, indivisible. Their shape we may take to be spherical ; they are
inert (in the physical sense), unchangeable, inelastic, and impenetrable by the
ether. Apart from the attribute of inertia, the most important characteristic of
these ultimate atoms is their chemical affinity their tendency to apply them-
selves to one another and combine in small groups in an orderly fashion. These
fixed groups ... of primitive atoms are the atoms of the elements the
well-known ' indivisible' atoms of chemistry, the qualitative, and, so far as our
present empirical knowledge goes, unchangeable distinctions of our chemical
elements are therefore solely conditioned by the varying number and disposition
of the similar primitive atoms of which they are composed." As to the most
remote past, he speaks of "An unbroken series of natural events following an
orderly course of evolution according to fixed laws . . . from a primeval
chaos to the present ' order of the cosmos.' At the outset, there is nothing in
infinite space but mobile elastic ether and innumerable similar separate particles,
the primitive atoms, scattered throughout it in the form of dust ; perhaps these
are themselves originally ' points of condensation' of the vibrating ' substance,'
the remainder of which constitute the ether. The atoms of our elements arise
from the grouping together in definite numbers of the primitive atoms or atoms
of mass."
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 305
feeling of satisfaction in the explanation of matters the most
diverse by a conception of solid bodies in motion?
As we have pointed out in preceding chapters, we can
imagine nothing except what our senses have previously
experienced either as a whole or in its constituent parts.
This close connection between experience and imagination
has for its consequence the following law of association :
Facts of experience are reproduced in our imagination
with the greater ease and readiness the more frequently or
continuously they have been experienced by us.
But we have just seen l how movements of solid bodies
constitute the most constant and universal of all our experi-
ences. What wonder, then, that a sense of ease and pleasur-
able relief should be felt whenever difficult and puzzling
phenomena of any kind can be presented to the intellect in
terms and by the aid of mental images of moving solid
bodies.
It should also be recollected that few things are more
familiar to us than the experience that objects of consider-
able size can mostly be broken, cut, or crushed by us into
smaller portions, and these again similarly further sub-
divided. It is a most common experience also to see sub-
stances crushed into very small particles (sand, dust, or what
not) particles so small that we are unable to subdivide them
any further. Hence a vague feeling can be produced of a
distinctness in nature between large bodies that we can sub-
divide and possessing obvious qualities, and minute particles
which we cannot so act upon, and of which we can detect
hardly any qualities particles only just within the range of
our vision. In this way an imagination easily and spontane-
ously arises of large bodies being made up of minute solid
particles incapable of smaller subdivision which, by their
union and coherence, compose such bodies.
1 See ante, p. 300.
306 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Through a combination of these multitudinous and con-
tinual experiences, the tendency has arisen (probably ages
before Democritus), still exists, and will, most likely, ever
exist, to try to represent all the phenomena of the world
by mental images of particles in motion, and by dances of
atoms.
We do not, of course, for one moment, mean to underrate
the enormous value and practical utility of working hypo-
theses such as the " atomic theory, " the " undulatory theory
of light," of vibrating ethereal vortex rings, etc., etc. Our
only intention is to point out that such theories are to be
recognised for what they really are, and not regarded, as is
too frequently the case, as absolute truths, really evident,
explaining satisfactorily the phenomena of nature, and con-
stituting an important part of the real matter of science, and
as truths which have been shown to be finally and absolutely
evident. The futility of such explanations may easily be
seen by thinking of such ultimate atoms as magnified to
inches in diameter. Then all the difficulties which we can
feel as to the ultimate composition of larger bodies, will be
found to be no less existent as regards the molecules and
atoms themselves.
Leaving now the subject of motion, and proceeding to
consider the truth as to space and time, we again meet with
the deluding consequences of uniform sensuous experience
upon the imagination.
Now (as we said when speaking of the supposed -necessary
infinity of the universe), no man, anywhere or anywhen, has
ever met with an object which has not got some other object
beyond it. No man, also, has ever found anything to hap-
pen without finding that something else happened after it.
It results from this constant and invariable experience that
it is utterly impossible for us to imagine anything to exist
without something beyond it, or to imagine anything to
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 307
happen without something, sooner or later, happening after
it.
Thus it is that men who have not emancipated themselves
from the chains of their sense-perceptions, declare, as we
above observed, that " space " is, and must be, " infinite."
Mistaking the impotence of their imagination for a percep-
tion of objective reality, they affirm the real, and even in-
finite, existence of what has no real being at all, and is
nothing in reality beyond a creation of the mind.
Space is but an abstraction from abstractions a doubly
abstract idea. There is, of course, no such thing even as
" extension " as such. That is but an abstract idea gained
from a perception of that property which every extended
thing possesses, and which real objective property is the
foundation in the thing itself of the abstract idea exten-
sion. Similarly, " space is an abstract idea drawn from
the different extensions of all the extended things we know,
from inter-sidereal ether to the densest mass of metal. It
is, as we said, a doubly abstract idea, and is abstracted
from, and denotes the extension of, all extended things
taken together, and united in one highly abstract idea.
' Time " is, similarly, but another highly abstract idea
gained from things which succeed each other, and which
are said to follow each other " in succession." But, of
course, there is and can be no such thing as " succession "
by itself. Succession is but a term expressing our idea of a
real condition possessed by each thing which happens after
another which occurred before, and which condition is the
foundation in the thing itself of that abstract idea. Simi-
larly, " time " is a doubly abstract idea, since it is drawn
from the different successions of all the succeeding things
we know. It denotes the succession of all succeeding things
taken together and united in one highly abstract idea.
Of course, for ordinary scientific work, the common con-
308 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
ceptions as to space and time, as well as motion, molar
and molecular, ethereal undulations, etc., serve every need-
ful purpose, and are most valuable, just as the commonly
used physical hypotheses as to atoms, molecules, etc., serve,
as before said, very important ends, and have greatly aided,
as they no doubt will continue to be of great service
to, scientific progress. But as with respect to these hypo-
theses, so also with respect to space and time, it seems to
us we cannot be dispensed, in a work such as the present
one, from an attempt to analyse those common motions as
fully as it is within our power to do.
The physical division of the matter of science may, then,
be described as follows :
It consists of real, substantial things in themselves, with
all their qualities, powers, and energies, inorganic and or-
ganic, vegetable, animal, including rational animals (men)
as well as the merely sentient portion of animal life.
Amongst and between different portions of this physical
division of the matter of science, we have recognised various
branches of continuity various new departures. Our con-
fidence in the accuracy of our judgment as to these new de-
partures and their rationality, as well as their possibility in
the material universe, are guaranteed and rendered as far as
possible intelligible to us by our recognition that the uni-
verse is pervaded, as it seems to have been and to be caused,
by something which our intellect reveals to us as having
necessarily some analogy with our own reason and intelli-
gence, however inconceivably greater it may be.
The second division of the matter of science consists of
everything psychical, from the faintest and most obscure
feelings, which any animated being can experience, to the
most abstract ideas that the human mind can possibly form.
These feelings and ideas are not regarded, in the work of
science, mainly as abstractions, but rather as concrete reali-
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 309
ties feeljngs as being, or having been, actually felt, and
ideas as being, or having been, actually thought.
The matter of science must consist of these two divisions,
which to speak most briefly are composed of things and
thoughts.
For all idealists must regard, and do regard, the groups of
psychical modifications, which for them make up the exter-
nal world, as distinguishable from that reflex self-conscious-
ness which reflects upon its own mental experiences, and
apprehends knowledge and truth as knowledge and truth.
It is unquestionable, therefore, that things and thoughts
constitute, and must constitute, the matter of human science
in its widest acceptation of that term.
Such, then, being the field of labour wherein all pursuers of
science have to work, what are the tools which are absolutely
necessary for them that they may accomplish their task ?
Now, obviously, the simplest and earliest used of these
tools are our various organs of sense, by the use of which
alone we can attain to sense-perceptions, which together
form the indispensable starting-point of all our knowledge,
and which supply us with materials necessary for the exer-
cise of the imagination, without the presence of which all
intellectual activity is impossible.
To these, of course, must be added all those common
those normal intellectual powers, the due exercise of which
constitutes a man a person of ordinary sound judgment and
good sense.
Amongst and bound up with these intellectual faculties r
however, are certain fundamental principles which constitute
our intellectual tools par excellence, and which here need
distinct recognition. We have seen in our fourth chapter
(" The Methpds of Science ") how utterly impossible it is
not only to cultivate science, but even to make one valid
observation, or usefully to carry on the simplest experiment,
310 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
without the tacit assumption of certain fundamental princi-
ples as convictions implicitly accepted. Such convictions
were : the existence of certainty ' ; the existence of an exter-
nal world a ; our continuous substantial existence 3 ; the valid-
ity of the process of inference 4 ; the self-evidence of some
truths 6 ; the principle of contradiction 6 ; the evidence of
axioms 7 ; the principle of causation 8 ; the uniformity of
nature"; and the existence of necessity and contingency. 10
After what has been said in Chapter VIII. about these first
principles of .knowledge of which our highest mental powers
take cognisance, we think that we need not occupy much
more space concerning them here, but only give once more
a brief summary thereof.
The fundamental truths, the intellectual perceptions and
convictions which must be employed for the cultivation of
science may, then, be thus summarised :
(1) The first intellectual tool which must be employed is
the principle which affirms that certain things can be per-
ceived with certainty and are evident.
(2) The second principle is that nothing can both exist
and not exist at the same time, and this principle serves to
test the solidity of the work which the first tool enables the
scientific labourer to perform.
(3) Thirdly comes the perception and conviction (for
which the second principle vouches) that there are truths
which are true, not only here and now, but which must be
true ever and always, and that such truths are not merely
laws or conditions of our own mind, but are true objectively,
being applicable to and valid for all " things in themselves "
apart from the existence of any imaginable mind.
1 See ante, p. 98. 6 See ante, p. 103. 9 See ante, p. 106.
8 See ante, p. 101. See ante, p. 105. 10 See ante, p. 106.
3 See ante, p. 101. 7 See ante, p. 105.
4 See ante, p. 102. 8 See ante, p. 105.
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 311
(4) Thus it is clear that there are objective relations, cor-
responding with subjective ones.
(5) The perception and conviction that not only our
actions, sensations, imaginations, reminiscences, emotions,
perceptions, and conceptions, are known to us, but also our
own substantial and continuous personal existence.
(6) The perception and conviction that we have the faculty
of knowing not only present external existences but what is
external to our present experience, memory showing us such
experience and enabling us to recognise it as such, so that
in each of us subject and object become identified.
(7) We must also make use of the principle which upholds
and supports the process of inference or reasoning, namely,
the perception that if certain premisses be true, then what-
ever logically follows from them must be true likewise.
(8) Finally, there is the principle of causation, which
assures us that every new existence, state, or condition, and
every existence which does not contain the principle of its
being within itself, demands a cause for its existence.
It is these fundamental truths which constitute the intel-
lectual instruments, by the use of which all science that now
exists has been elaborated, and which must be employed to
develop whatever scientific truths shall hereafter come to
be ascertained or established.
The self-evident, fundamental, and ultimate truths which
guarantee and support all our knowledge, are not ideas
which are innate, but the faculty of apprehending them is
innate. They are ideas which our reason has the power of
extracting and of perceiving the self-evidence of, just as the
faculties of a mere animal enable it to become aware of suit-
able food through its organs of sense when it meets with
such, as the roots of a plant enable it to absorb water by
growing towards damp earth in its vicinity, and as the
nature of a crystal enables it to refract doubly when the re-
312 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
quisite means (certain rays of light) are brought to bear upon
it in a suitable manner.
All the phenomena of nature are alike wonderful, and
amongst its wonders is to be ranged our faculty of evolving,
by abstraction, perceptions of objective, necessary, and
self-evident truths as objective, necessary, and self-evident,
when the requisite means (careful attention, i. e., certain
beams of intellectual light) are brought to bear upon it.
As to the eight perceptions and convictions above enumer-
ated, unless we really know and trust them, science is logic-
ally impossible. Without them (as we have seen in Chapter
IV.) it is impossible to have a complete, harmonious, and
stable system of knowledge. If these truths were denied,
or even really doubted, by anyone, he would necessarily be
reduced to a state of mental paralysis and intellectual inani-
tion. His intellect, deprived of their aid, would, indeed,
not only be paralysed so that it could no further advance,
but it would be entirely disintegrated like a world in which
the force of gravity had been suddenly annihilated. But
because we must (to be rational) recognise the self-evidence
and absolute certainty of the fundamental principles of all
human knowledge, we must always be extremely careful to
be guilty of no exaggeration as to the amount of that know-
ledge, but to keep an open mind as to possibilities concern-
ing which we have no evidence. However improbable any
such possibilities may be, we must be scrupulous in not
representing any improbability, however great it may be, as
an impossibility.
Thus as to the structure, composition, or nature of the
universe, very divergent conditions are by no means evi-
dently impossible. It is, of course, evident that there is an
intelligent energy in the universe, because we are conscious
of what exists in ourselves our own self-conscious intelli-
gence. But it is not impossible (though so improbable that
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 313
the mere possibility seems hardly worth mentioning) that be-
sides intelligent energy, there may be nothing but one
essential kind of matter with intrinsic motion, animals
having merely the appearance of being sensitive organisms,
while in truth literally nothing more than mere machines.
The possibility of this cannot be denied for two reasons:
(1) We can only know our own sensations and emotions
through the intellect, so that we cannot be absolutely sure
that our higher estimate of animals (as being really sensitive
organisms) may not be due to the fact that we know them
only intellectually, and so may unconsciously transfigure
them.
(2) We cannot know with certainty what the emotions
and sensations of animals really are. They are probably
like what our sensations and emotions might be apart from
the intellect. But it can never be absolutely evident to us
that they are so, or what they are in themselves, or even
what our own sensations and emotions may be, apart from
our intellect, though, as we have endeavoured to show, 1
our intellect enables us to obtain a high degree of probabil-
ity in the matter.
Secondly, it is not evident that the universe may not con-
sist of one kind of matter (the parent of all the combinations
we know), and one physical energy (the root of the physical
energies of our experience), together with an intelligent
energy.
Thirdly, it may consist of one matter and several or many
energies, essentially distinct from all eternity, together with
intelligent energy.
Fourthly, it is not evident that it may not be composed
of several, or many, essentially distinct matters (true ele-
ments) with a physical energy essentially one, together with
intelligent energy.
1 See ante, p. 214.
314 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Fifthly, it may consist of several or a multitude of distinct
elements, together with several or a multitude of essentially
distinct energies, and also intelligent energy.
But it cannot consist of only one kind of energy, even if
that energy were mind, because we have an intuition of
something extended, and of three dimensions upon which
intuition all mathematics repose.
As to the intelligent energy of the universe, apart from
that of its absolute cause, it is conceivable there may be
none but what is human; but it is also conceivable that
there may be several kinds, or an unimaginable multitude
of kinds of intellectual energy, all essentially different from
that of man.
But what, in our opinion, is evidently impossible is the
evolution of intellect from mere physical force, above all,
the origin therefrom of our ethical intuitions and our con-
victions as to necessities and possibilities.
But for the two reasons given above it cannot be declared
absolutely impossible, improbable as it seems to us to be,
that life and mere sensitivity should have been evolved
from some energy underlying what we know as the physical
forces.
Nor, as we before pointed out, 1 is it impossible that the
human intellect may have been evolved from the psychical
power of animals if their psychical powers be essentially and
potentially intelligent. It is possible that intelligent energy
may be latent in animals and only able actually to manifest
itself in a manner far below its intrinsic power, and, on ac-
count of all the conditions present to it, which render it
unable to emerge in thought, into which it would emerge if
a suitable environment were provided. But, certainly, ani-
mals, so far as we have been able to obtain evidence, show
no signs of possessing such a latent intellectuality, while
1 See ante, p. 154.
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 315
they often show what, did they possess it, would be a per-
fectly amazing degree of stupidity.
In pursuing our quest of the groundwork of science, if
anything is certain/ it is that the portion of truth which we
are able to attain to in our investigations of the cosmos is
but an unimaginably small portion of the whole.
There are two facts which the man of science ought to
have frequently and clearly before his mind. The first is
the practical infinitude of knowledge, as yet unattained by
him, and, probably, beyond all human ken. The second
fact, and one no less important, is the absolute certainty of
that small portion of knowledge which his intellect is able
to attain to and recognise as being self-evident, and evi-
dently of universal and necessary validity. Because the
matter for exploration is indefinitely vast and but partially
attainable, we have no reason to distrust our knowledge of
what we do perceive to be certain, or to undervalue the
means at our disposal for obtaining such scientific knowledge
and certainty. The means here referred to consist of first
principles which have in these pages been drawn out and
enumerated- the tools of which the labourers in the field
of science are compelled to make use, and which they should
rejoice exceedingly in the possession of. It now only
remains to notice some facts and make a few remarks con-
cerning the nature of the scientific labourers themselves.
Uneducated men are often confident of their knowledge
in proportion to their ignorance, while the modesty of the
cultured is generally not less noteworthy. But whatever
diffidence ordinary persons may feel with respect to de-
ficiencies in their own knowledge of unfamiliar facts, or of
matters of science, they are generally confident enough that
they have a sufficient acquaintance with their own nature
and those mental faculties which common sense assures
them they daily exercise. They may, indeed, be aware
316 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
that it is possible for interest to induce some of their neigh-
bours not only to say, but even to think, that " there is
nothing like leather, " and they may recognise the fact that
an habitual employment of the mind and energies in one
special pursuit can prevent men from being able readily to
apply themselves to another of a very different kind. Never-
theless, as a rule, they have no proximately correct appre-
ciation either of the wonderfully lofty nature of their mental
powers or of the warping and narrowing effect of prejudice
in hampering their exercise. As the late Cardinal Newman
truly observed many years ago :
" Any one study, of whatever kind, exclusively pursued, dead-
ens in the mind the interest, nay the perception, of any others.
Thus Cicero says that Plato and Demosthenes, Aristotle and
Isocrates might have respectively excelled in each other's prov-
ince, but that each was absorbed in his own. Specimens of this
peculiarity occur every day. You can hardly persuade some
men to talk about anything but their own pursuit ; they refer
the whole world to their own centre, and measure all matters by
their own rule, like the fisherman in the drama, whose eulogy on
his deceased lord was, that ' he was so fond of fish/ "
This tendency to mental one-sidedness, arising from the
almost exclusive study of one side of nature, has', as ex-
perience convinces us, made not a few able men, exclusively
devoted to the study of one or more physical sciences, less
able, than would have been the case had their culture been
wider, to appreciate and assign full weight to the facts of
mental and, above all, of metaphysical science. The one
great requisite for the study and correct estimate of the
nature of things external to ourselves, is true and accurate
knowledge of our own. It is necessary for us to recognise
that we are not only conscious but conscious of our con-
sciousness; that we not only can make use of and be guided
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 317
by inference, but that we are capable of analysing the pro-
cess of inference, and that we can not only act well or ill,
but can recognise an ethical ideal. We require to recognise
distinctly what our intellect can and does do, in order that
we may assign his due part in the groundwork of science to
the worker himself.
Now, reflex self-consciousness shows us that the " self "
exists continuously, and is conscious of successive objects
and events, and can and does recognise them as forming
part of a series which it transcends, but which it can con-
template as a whole or in parts and in different orders, ac-
cording as may be desired. This power or principle it also
knows with perfect certainty can not only know itself, but
is also aware of the kinds and directions of its activities, and
can regard them as a whole, or in groups, or singly. It can,
it well knows, perceive its own states, both passive and
active, and also external objects and events, and can com-
pare the relations between them, returning upon itself at
will along different lines of thought, and also setting forth
in various directions at will. Such a power, aware of all
these things and present to them all, must itself be our
very ideal of unity, and stand in the greatest possible con-
trast to the material world it is able directly and immediately
to apprehend and make present to it. Yet, since each man
who reflects can know that it is he who not only thinks but
also feels, he must recognise his living body and his think-
ing principle as constituting, to his experience, one unity.
He perceives himself as knowing and recognising the exter-
nal world as independent of and yet known to him. He
thus knows that in his consciousness the external and the
internal meet and blend, and that in himself subject and
object are, as before said, identified. This is a supreme
truth of science, and no certainty we can attain to about
any other object is, or can be, so certain as is this truth.
318 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
Thus we come to know how it is, and how alone it is,
possible for the scientific worker ably and with good effect
to wield the wonderful intellectual tools he is supplied with
for labouring in that field which constitutes the matter of
science.
The labourer thus being replete with conscious reason and
labouring with tools which, the more skilfully he uses them,
afford him ever better grounds for confiding in his reason,
which he also recognises as the basis of all his conclusions
and convictions, can it likewise be said that reason is latent
and implied also in the very matter of science ?
If the reader will recall to mind and weigh with care the
facts and considerations which have been again and again
brought forward in this book, he will, we venture to think,
be convinced that there is much to be said in support of
such a latent intelligence.
Let him recollect the phenomena of crystallisation and
how a crystal's broken angle can be and will be, the needful
conditions being supplied, accurately replaced. Let him
remember how different chemical substances possess their
own special and in different mineral species very different
innate laws, and also the inherent tendencies of chemical
substances to combine in definite proportions. Let him
note well the marvellous processes of individual development
from the earliest condition of the germ upwards, and also
consider how during the whole life of each it bears a relation
both to the past and the future, as does the chrysalis both
to the larval and the imago state of its existence.
Moreover, if the repair of a crystal is wonderful, how
much more so those which take place in animal and even in
human ' life. How wonderful is the transition a from vital
activities which are utterly unconscious to actions which
are present to consentience and ultimately can be recognised
1 See ante, pp. 124, 125. * See ante, p. 136.
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE 319
by reflex consciousness. Yet, perhaps, above all other
wonders is the wonder of instinct, the significance of which
Schelling so truly appreciated.
There is, indeed, a latent logic in the actions of the beast
which hunts its prey; in the nesting bird; the bee, the ant,
the climbing plant with its marvellous tendrils and even
in the mathematical regularities of crystallisation ! But such
logic is not the logic of the crystal, nor of the plant, nor of
the bird, nor of the beast. It is, in a sense, truly in them,
but it is no less certainly not of them, nor is it merely even
of ourselves. Mankind did not always inhabit this planet,
and when the first animals possessed of self-consciousness
and rationality first appeared here, they were not and could
not have been the causes of their own advent, but, as new
existences, must have been effects of a greater cause.
He who with an unprejudiced mind ponders over the
phenomena which the universe lays open to his gaze can
hardly, we think, fail to discover immanent therein an
activity the results of which harmonise with man's reason:
an activity which is orderly and disaccords with blind
chance, or " a fortuitous concourse of atoms," but which,
nevertheless, is not an intelligent activity such as is our
own, but one which acts in modes which are different from
those we should adopt in order to attain similar ends. It is
sometimes objected against reason as latent in nature, that
we see in all directions so much waste, and that of so great
a multitude of organic germs, very few attain maturity.
But this objection is indeed an anthropomorphic one, and
would imply that the cause of all things is a contriving
human mind ! But the non-human rationality of which
nature affords so many hints and glimpses as everywhere
pervading it, is a universal cause and reason, and, if we may
speak of " purpose " in this connection, its purpose is ful-
filled by every event, and thus no waste is possible. Every
320 THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE
seemingly " wasted " germ fulfils other purposes of nature,
as the spores of our ancient coal-fields now help the man of
science to cross oceans in quest of fresh material for study.
But though the reason which pervades nature is not that
of a human intellect, yet the fact that it has a certain, how-
ever remote, analogy therewith is shown us by our own
minds. For to it, as a cause, we must ascribe our power of
knowing first principles and ethical laws ' and of recognising
fundamental truths as being what they are. To it must be
due that marvellous light shed upon our intelligence which
enables us to know that such truths are absolute, universal,
and necessary, objectively as well as subjectively.
Thus our answer to the question, " What is the ground-
work of science ? " may be thus expressed: It is the work
of self-conscious, material organisms, making use of the
marvellous intellectual first principles which they possess in
exploring all the physical and psychical phenomena of the
universe, which sense, intuition, and ratiocination can any-
how reveal to them as real existences whether actual or only
possible. Such being the groundwork of science, what may,
nay, what must, be said to be its foundation what the
support and guarantee alike of the workers, the principles,
and the objects of science ?
It appears to us impossible rationally to deny that such a
foundation can only be sought in that reason which evidently,
to us, pervades the universe, and is that by which our intel-
lect has been both produced and illumined.
We must admit that the principle of causation and the
uniformity of nature are truths which our minds apprehend
from sources which are mainly not sensuous but intellectual.
These principles, when we apply them to the world of ex-
perience, reveal an orderly universe. By them we are
forced to read an order and a reason into the profoundest
1 See ante, p. 170.
NATURE OF THE GROUNDWORK OF SCIENCE $21
depths of the essence and being of the universe, nor can we
forget that in those depths there must repose the ultimate
cause of all that we recognise as beautiful and good, as well
as true.
In concluding, we feel bound to confess that the more we
study nature the more profoundly convinced do we become
that the action of an all-pervading but unimaginable in-
telligence alone affords us any satisfactory conception of the
universe, as a whole, or of any single portion of the cosmos
which may be selected for exclusive study.
Unless we are profoundly mistaken, it is only through the
conception of such an energy, as an active causative principle,
underlying and pervading the material cosmos, together with
the recognition of the dignity of human reason, empowered
as it is to perceive self-evident, universal, and objective
truths, that we can understand the groundwork of science
and attain to a final and satisfactory Epistemology.
INDEX
Absolute existence, 230
Abstract ideas, 7
Absurdity of Herbert Spencer's start-
ing point, 278
of scepticism, 219
Act of sight, 10
All knowledge wonderful, 56, 245
Analogy of human and divine reason,
320
Analysis of a sentence, 187
Anatomy, 24
Animal intelligence, 156-161
kingdom, no
stupidity, 168
Animals, groups of, in
Animals' latent logic, 319
Animals possibly latently intellectual,
154
Anthropology, 32
Ants, 190
Appearance and reality, 75
Application of ethics may vary, 166
Arguments as to external world, 47-53
Associated feelings, 145
feelings cause uncertainty, 245
Astronomy, 24
Atomic theory, 306
Atoms, 304
Attention impairs automatic action,
144
Attractions of idealism, 43
Automatic actions, 143, 151
Axiom of equality, 247
Axioms, 105
Balfour, Mr. Arthur, 83
Being, 23
Belt, Mr., and ants, 190
Berkeley, 39
Bifold unity of man, 317
Bilateral symmetry, 285
Blind disbelief fatal, 98
Bodies consist of matter and energy,
302
Bodily injuries, effects of, 70
Botany, 24
Bradley, Dr. F. H., 76-78, 80
Breaches of continuity, 214
of continuity in the cosmos, 294
Bridge between subject and object,
237
Carpenter and instinct, 183
Causal principle of universe rational,
293
Causation, 256
and uniformity of nature, 262
and the universe, 289
may be felt, 260
principle of, 105
Cause, a, demanded for new or de-
pendent being, 256, 258
and force, 258
of universe judged by its effects,
292
Causes of scientific knowledge, 255
Certainties, 240-254
Certainty, grounded in self-evidence,
57, 221
of existing feelings, 217
of our existence, 101
of some knowledge, 315
Chasms in nature, 287
Chimpanzee named Sally, 174
Cicero and ethic, 167
Classification of sciences, 16, 17
323
324
INDEX
Clifford, Professor, 247
Cognition, direct and reflex, 229
its elements, 9
Colour, idea of, n, 65
Condillac and instinct, 179
Confidence in reason warranted, 318
Consentience, 147 '
Conscience, 163
Consciousness, 137, 227
its trustworthiness, 218
of self, 317
Corporeal substance and extension,
77, 78
Cosmology, 23
Cosmos has latent intelligence, 294,
295
pervaded by intelligence, 321
Counting crow, 173
Credulity of sensists, 74
Criterion of truth, the ultimate, 13,
14, 221-223, 22 5
Crystals, 282, 318
Cuvier, 51
Darwin and instinct, 180
Deaf-mutes, 196-200
Definiteness of all that exists, 278
Delusion as to motion, 306
Delusions, tactual and optical, 70
Democritus, 306
Dependent being needs a cause, 258
Difference between ideas and feelings,
II, 12
Dionaea and intelligence, 159
Direct and reflex cognition, 229
Direct consciousness, 138
Distinction of kind, 213
Effects of bodily injuries, 69
Ego, empirical, 232
pure, 232
Elements of cognition, 9
Emotional language, 170
signs, 1 50
Emperor moth, 129
Empirical laws and judgments, 8, 94
Energy, 298
Enumeration of the sciences, 16
Epistemology, 2
and levelling down, 276
derivation, v
Error and incomplete knowledge, 73
Esse and per dpi, 35, 74
Eternal causal principle, 29!
Ethic and results, 163, 164
Ethics, 25, 32
Ethnology, 32
Everything which exists is definite,
278
Excluded middle, 242
Existence implies state of existence,
231
Extension, idea of, 67
our intuition of, 46
External world, its nature, 46
self-evidence of, 46, 224
Faculties, not ideas, innate, 311
Fallacy as to memory, 235
of Clifford and Helmholtz, 247
Feeling and reflection, 12
Feelings, associations of, 145
present ones, certain, 217
underlying perceptions, 147-150
Fichte, 40, 41,^3
Field of scientific labour, 309
First principles not gained through
natural selection, 272
Forbes, Mr., 192
Force and cause, 258
idea of, 67
or power and primary idea, 259
Forms of thought, 246
Fortunate character of Darwin's con-
ception, 269
Functions of man's body, 116-127
Fundamental assumptions of science,
106
Geology, 24
Gesture language, 195-202
Goodness, and distinct idea, 162, 166
Groundwork of science : its nature,
296
ultimate, of science, 321
Habit, 125
Haeckel, Professor, 304
Hartmann, 41
Hegel, 41
and the swimmer, 254
Helmholtz, 247
Hexicology, 31
Higher and lower mental powers 142
History, 32
Hoste, Sir William, 193
INDEX
325
How is knowledge possible? 57, 76
was knowledge obtained ? 264
Human and cosmic reason analogous,
320
Hume, 41, 83
and causation, 256
followers of, 227
Hypothetical truths notknown through
natural selection, 272
I am, significance of, 239
Idea of cause, 258
of colour, II, 65
of extension, 67
: of force, 67
of nonentity, II
of power or force, 259
Idealism, 35-39, 41-43
its attractions, 43
Ideas, abstract, 7
and feelings, differences between,
ii, 12, 65, 80
" Ideas" of animals, 158
Implicit truth made explicit by infer-
ence, 250
Impressions and sense impresses, 238
Incomplete knowledge not error, 73
Indefinite, the, an improbable source
of things, 277
Inference and perception, 62, 63
makes implicit truth explicit, 250
Infinitude of knowledge, 315
Initiation of knowledge, 4
Inorganic world and innate law, 281-
285 _
Instinct, in animals, 127-131, 179-184
in man, 126
its essence, 131, 133
reflex action of a whole organism,
182
Intellect possibly latent in animals,
154
Intellectual antecedents of science,
. 2I ?.
intuition, 14, 104
language, 187
Intelligence latent in the cosmos, 295
pervades cosmos, 321
Intention at the basis of ethics, 165
Intuition, 14, 104
of extension, 46
Ireland, Dr. W., 2IO
Iridescence, 69
Is, significance of the word, 207
Johnson, Captain, 192
Johnson, Dr., 81
John Stuart Mill and ethic, 164
and truth, 99
Joint method of agreement and differ-
ence, 94, 96
Kalmuck and Persian ladies, 284
Kant, 41
Kind, distinctions of , 214
Knowledge, all wonderful, 56, 245
how obtained, 264
its certainty, 315
its initiation, 4
not due to association, 265
not due to natural selection, 267
not due to revelation, 266
not innate, 265
of our feelings reflex, 228-230
practically infinite, 315
Lamarck and instinct, 179
Language, intellectual, 187
and science, 186
of savages, 205, 206
unintellectual, 186
Lapsed intelligence, 180
Larden, Mr., and ants, 191
Latent ideas, etc., 97
logic in animals, 319
Laura Bridgman, 200
Legitimacy of certainty, 97
Levelling down and epistemology, 277
Leverrier, 50
Literature, politics, and instinct, 182
Lloyd Morgan, 154, 160
Locke, 41
Logic, 21, 32
Lord's Prayer in gesture, 199
Mallery, Colonel, 195, 199
Man's body, functions of, 116-127
body, structure of, 1 11-116
duplex unity, 317
zoological position, in
Martha Obrecht, 200
Material and repair, 134
Mathematics, 18, 20, 26
Matter, 302
of science, 308
Means and objects of perception, 41 , 61
326
INDEX
Memory, 100, 145
its validity, 233
reveals the objective, 237
Mental onesidedness, 316
powers, the orders of, 142
Metaphor, 203, 204
Metaphysics, 22, 23, 32, 87
Method of agreement, 94, 96
of concomitant variations, 95
of difference, 94
of residues, 95
Methods of science, 89
Mind can know truths, 75
Molecular motion, 304
Monism, 83
the truths latent in it, 303
Monkeys, 192-194
Monosyllabic utterances, 202
Montaigne and instinct, 179
More than phenomena knowable, 238
Most certain truths of science, 317
Motion, 298-300
a constant experience, 305
perception of, 71
Natural selection almost incapable of
disproof, 269
selection and evolution of intellect,
274
selection and instinct, 182
selection and realism, 46
selection and the universe, 29 r
selection could never have shown
us hypothetical truths, 272
selection did not reveal necessary
truths, 272
Nature of the external world, 47, 55
of the groundwork of science, 296
Nature's ultimate teaching, 319
Neptune, 51, 52
New existence demands a cause, 256
Newman, Cardinal, 316
Nihilum, 23
Not everything must have a cause, 255
Nothing, idea of, n
No waste in nature, 319
Number, j8, 19, 175
Objections against realism, 63
Objective and subjective worlds, 236
relations, 54
truths perceived, 246
Objects and means of perception, 41,
61
of science, 34
Omniscience and human knowledge,
279
Ontogeny, 31
Organic inference, 160
Origin from the indefinite absurd, 277
Owen, Sir Richard, 51
Pasteur, M. 226
Perceptions, 3, 41, 63
Perception of existence, 242
Phantasmata, 9
Phylogeny, 31
Physical antecedents of science, 108
sciences, 24-32
Physiology, 24, 25
Pigs and prayers, 172
Plants do not feel, 287
Politics, 32
Possibilities as to the nature of the
universe, 312-314
Possible latency of intellect in animals,
154, 274, 314
Present feelings certain, 217
Primary and secondary qualities, 64,
69, 72
Principle of causation, 105
of contradiction, 105, 242, 243
of the universe, 291, 292
Process of reasoning, 102, 252, 253
Processes of repair, 125
Prodigal son in gesture, 198
Proof impossible for ultimate certain-
ties, 221
Psychical antecedents of science, 137
powers of animals, 155-160
Psychology, 22, 24, 32
Qualities, of material objects, 59
primary and secondary, 64, 69, 72
Realism, objections against, 63
Reality, possible and actual, 23
Reasoning must end somewhere, 103,
220
not a very high faculty, 102, 252
Reason not invalidated by its possible
origin, 153
to be confided in, 318
Recollection and reminiscence, 234
INDEX
327
Reflection, 227, 228
and feeling, 12
Reflex action, 121
consciousness, 138
Relations, 91, 141
apprehended, 12
objective ones, 54
Relativity of knowledge, 279, 280
Religion, 32
Religions, 25
Reminiscence and recollection, 234
Remorse, 161
Results, no ethical test, 163
Reverie, 146
Revolving cube, 59
Romanes, 168, 172, 190, 192-194, 196,
197, 202, 206
Rontgen rays, 43
Root of thought and language, 211
Roots of language, 210
Sally the Chimpanzee, 174
Savages' language, 205, 206
Sayce, Professor, .205
Schelling, 41
and instinct, 319
Scepticism, absurdity of, 219
Science and language, 186
has advanced, 97
intellectual antecedents of, 215
is measurement, 90
its objects, 34
its physical antecedents, 108
its ultimate groundwork, 321
methods of, 89
physical antecedents of, 137
what it is ? 3
Sciences, enumeration of, 16
Science's most certain truth, 317
Sciences, physical, 24-32
Scientific knowledge, causes of, 255
observation, 93
Self-evidence, 103, 104
ground of certainty, 56, 221
of external world, 46, 224
Self-existence known, 317
Sensitivity and organic world, 212
Sensori-motor action, 123, 131
Sense perceptions of animals, 155
Sensuous universals, 58
Sentence, analysis of one, 187
Serial symmetry, 286
Shamming death, 181
Sign, what it is, 150
Significance of " I am," 239
Sitaris beetle, 130
Sleep-walking, 152
Social approbation and ethics, 163
Sociology of intelligences, 25
Solipsism, 40, 82, 83
Sounds, rational and articulate, 189
, rational but not articulate, 188
Source of primary principles of intel-
ligence, 293
Space, 307
Speech, 189, 211
and reason, 211
Spencer, Mr. Herbert, and causation,
261
Spencer's great law, 277
Sphex wasp, 128
Spinoza, 40
Stimuli, 117
Structure of man's body, 112
Stupidity of animals, 169, 174, 177
Subject and object, 236
and object identified, 232, 238
Symbols, 91-93
Symmetry, bilateral and serial, 285
That follows how, 242
"That," "what," and "why," 4, 76,
87
Theology, 25
Therefore, its meaning, 252
Thing in itself, 224
Thought curiously undervalued, 253
our only means of certainty, 253
Thoughts, 7
Three categories of indispensable
truths, 225
Time, 307
Tools of science, 309-311
Transition from unconsciousness to
conscious activities, 318
from unconsciousness to voluntary
actions, 136
Transitions and time, 213
Trustworthiness of consciousness, 218
of memory, 233
Truth and the world, 101
can be known, 74
what it is, 99
Truths, indispensable, three categories
of, 225
Two forms of memory, 234
328
INDEX
Two orders of mental powers, 142
Tylor, Mr., 205
Ultimate certainties need no proof, 221
criterion of truth, 14, 221-223, 225
criterion of truths, 13, 14
groundwork of science, 321
teaching of nature, 319
Uniformity of nature, 261
Unimaginable not impossible, 84
Unintellectual language, 186
Unity of man's nature, bifold, 317
Universals, 6, 58, 61
Universe and causation, 290
as a whole, 289
Universe, is it infinite ? 303
not due to natural selection, 291
- the possibilities as to its nature,
312-314
Unreason not cause of universe, 293
Uranus, 50, 52
Validity of inference, 102
of memory, 233
Verbum, mentale, oris, corporis, 189,
209
Vibrations, 69
Vocal language proper, 189
Waste in nature non-existent, 319
The Science Series
Edited by Professor J. McKEEN CATTELL, Columbia Uni-
versity, with the cooperation of FRANK EVERS BEDDARD,
F.R.S., in Great Britain.
Each volume of the series will treat some department of
science with reference to the most recent advances, and will
be contributed by an author of acknowledged authority.
Every 'effort will be made to maintain the standard set by the
first volumes, until the series shall represent the more im-
portant aspects of contemporary science. The advance of
science has been so rapid, and its place in modem life has
become so dominant, that it is needful to revise continually
the statement of its results, and to put these in a form that is
intelligible and attractive. The man of science can himself
be a specialist in one department only, yet it is necessary for
him to keep abreast of scientific progress in many directions.
The results of modern science are of use in nearly every pro-
fession and calling, and are an essential part of modern
education and culture. A series of scientific books, such as
has been planned, should be assured of a wide circulation,
and should contribute greatly to the advance and diffusion of
scientific knowledge.
The volumes will be in octavo form, and will be fully illus-
trated in so far as the subject-matter calls for illustrations.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK & LONDON
THE SCIENCE SERIES.
(Volumes ready, in press, and in preparation.)
The Study of Man. By Professor A. C. HADDON, Royal College of
Science, Dublin.
The Groundwork of Science. By ST. GEORGE MIVART, F.R.S.
Rivers of North America. By ISRAEL C. RUSSELL, LL.D., Professor of
Geology in the University of Michigan.
The Stars. By Professor SIMON NEWCOMB, U.S.N., Nautical Almanac
Office, and Johns Hopkins University.
Meteors and Comets. By Professor C. A. YOUNG, Princeton University.
The Measurement of the Earth. By Professor T. C. MENDENHALL,
Worcester Polytechnic Institute, formerly Superintendent of the U. S.
Coast and Geodetic Survey.
Earth Sculpture. By Professor JAMES GEIKIE, F.R.S., University of
Edinburgh.
Volcanoes. By T. G. BONNE Y, F.R.S., University College, London.
Earthquakes. By Major C. E. BUTTON, U.S.A.
Physiography; The Forms of the Land. By Professor W. M. DAVIS,
Harvard University. .;
The History of Science. By C. S. PEIRCE.
General Ethnography. By Professor DANIEL G. BRINTON, University
of Pennsylvania.
Recent Theories of Evolution. By J. MARK BALDWIN, Princeton
University.
Whales. By F. E. BEDDARD, F.R.S. , Zoological Society, London.
The Reproduction of Living Beings. By Professor MARCUS HARTOG,
Queen's College, Cork.
Man and the Higher Apes. By Dr. A. KEITH, F.R.C.S.
Heredity. By J. ARTHUR THOMPSON, School of Medicine, Edinburgh.
Life Areas of North America : A Study in the Distribution of
Animals and Plants. By Dr. C. HART MERRIAM, Chief of the Bio-
logical Survey, U. S. Department of Agriculture.
Age, Growth, Sex, and Death. By Professor CHARLES S. MINOT,
Harvard Medical School.
Bacteria. Dr. J. H. GLADSTONE.
History of Botany. Professor A. H. GREEN.
Planetary Motion. G. W. HILL.
Infection and Immunity. GEO. M. STERNBERG, Surgeon-General U.S.A.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK & LONDON
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